Salazar's Heir: Year 1
by RinneganSage
Summary: Harry Potter, lived in a cupboard, dreamed of a black haired woman singing him to sleep. Having been abandoned by his parents for his Boy-Who-Lived brother, he enters the magical world, hateful and angry but soon realises that having ambition means nothing when he is almost a squib. Does Harry want power or family? Or is family, power?
1. Return to the Wizarding World

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!

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A scrawny raven haired eleven-year-old boy who looked like he was nine walked with his eyes glued to the wonders of the recently discovered magical world. At least, recently discovered to him. He had always known that he was different but receiving the letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry all but confirmed it.

Of course, that glee had soon turned to ash in his mouth when his aunt revealed to him the terrible truth of his heritage. That he was not an orphan. That, all these ten years when he had cried himself to sleep, wishing that his parents were alive, that someone would come and take him away from his cruel relatives, were not only alive, but they had given him away to his relatives.

Relatives! How he loathed the word.

Why? He hadn't quite understood the reason. But then, he didn't want to listen to it anymore. All he knew, was that the parents whose faces he looked longingly at for hours in the album he found in the attic had abandoned him.

And so, when the letter came and the truth was revealed to him, his love for his non-existent parents turned to a boiling rage, akin to hate, at his now existing ones. And when aunt Petunia had offered to contact them for him, he had blatantly refused. He didn't want to talk to them now, or ever. His aunt though, in a very rare act of generosity, had given him fifty pounds from her pocket and dropped him off at the Leaky Cauldron, which she claimed she couldn't see but remembered where it was from when she was young.

And so, he had dressed in an overly large shirt that kept slipping off his shoulders, Dudley's trousers that had to be held a by Uncle Vernon's belt looped around his scrawny waist, twice and torn shoes, had entered Gringott's Wizard Bank to change it to wizarding money, which he learnt was called galleons.

Imagine his surprise when he was told he didn't need to convert them, as he had a trust vault in his name. But that surprise was nothing compared to one he got, when he was informed by the strange creature with pointy teeth, a goblin, that his Potter trust vault, was meant for his school expenditure. He could hardly believe that his parents would give him this much money.

But as soon as he said it to himself, he was informed that every child of a relatively noble house was given a trust vault, regardless of what their parents felt about them. It was something of a rule in family charters and whatnot. Harry didn't understand any of it, but resolved to find out as much as he could. His school trust vault contained around five thousand galleons, topped to that amount every year for the next seven years.

The real shock was when both he and the goblin were surprised, at the second trust vault that was apparently in his name. Of course, he didn't have access to it, as the goblins needed to investigate why he had access to it in the first place.

And so, he had exited the bank, all too aware of the looks he was getting from the magical populace. It wasn't his fault that his clothes didn't fit him, making him look even skinnier than he actually was. Perhaps he was too skinny because he was kept in a boot cupboard under the stairs for ten years of his life. Or perhaps he was this scrawny because he was fed only once a day, and that too, sparingly.

At least, he was beaten too often. He counted himself lucky. Only when Uncle Vernon had been drinking would he take out his belt and whip him. For tolerating his freakishness, he said.

Harry Potter had always known he was special. And the recent events had confirmed it. But he had gotten suspicious when strange things kept happening to him. He had turned his teacher's hair blue, by accident of course, when she kept insulting him, for his failure to answer a question properly.

Another time, he had ended up on the school's roof when he had been running from Dudley and his gang when they decided to play harry hunting. But it was definitely confirmed, when he had talked to the python at the London Zoo and vanished the glass to its cage, thereby setting it free.

And as he looked at the various shops, dreaming of what he would buy, now that he actually had money for the first time in his life, he felt truly at home. The shops sold everything from potion supplies, bat sleeps, eye of newts, salamander blood, brooms, wands, robes and there was even a shop for pets called Magical Menagerie.

Harry went through the list provided by his school meticulously and made sure he had gotten everything. He didn't know why he needed an owl, cat or toad, but none of them appealed to him much. He would have liked to have a snake, given that he could actually talk to them, but they weren't on the list.

And so, he forwent the pet. Its not like the list said a pet was compulsory. It only said, students are allowed one. The longest time of course, was spent in the bookshop called, Flourish and Blotts. Harry wanted to learn as much as possible about this world, his world, that he bought the school books and many more. Anything that caught his eye, he bought, given that the bags were charmed to fit all the books in.

For now, he postponed buying any robes for school, given that he was so scrawny he didn't look like he was eleven. Harry had spotted a healer's shop, with a sign saying nutrition and growth potions. He figured he would buy them after a month of said potions. Perhaps, they could also give him some potions for the welts on his back.

The last thing on his list, was of course, the wand. He didn't particularly understand why they needed wands anyway. But he was the most excited about purchasing his wand than he had been about anything on the list.

And so, he made his way to Ollivander's Wand Shop with the dusty, grey exterior with peeling gold letters over the shop, reading: Ollivanders: Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.

That seemed a little unbelievable to him. How could they have been here since the time of the romans and perhaps even Jesus. If Jesus existed, that is. But then, if anybody had told him about the existence of goblins and wizards a month ago, he wouldn't have believed that either.

Upon entering the shop, he was a little disappointed to see that the shop was shabby, if not more, from the inside than it looked from the outside. The tiny interior consisted of shelves packed with slender boxes, which he presumed were wands, a shelf containing books and scrolls and a lone, spindly chair, near the door.

The shop must have contained, thousands of wands, he wondered in awe. How in the world was he going to choose his wand from among so many? This was seeming more impossible by the minute. Not to mention, there was no shopkeeper there.

'Hello...,' he called out but no one answered. 'Is anyone home?' he called again, feeling slightly silly.

'Ah yes. I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter,' Harry cursed, and jumped, turning back to see an old man with silver hair, white wrinkly skin and eerie grey eyes looking at him. He was going to ask the man how he knew Harry's name but the wandmaker continued. 'You have your mother's eyes.'

Harry already knew that, having seen her pictures countless times.

'It seems only yesterday that she was in here buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.'

The man moved even closer now and Harry noticed that his eyes weren't as grey as he had first thought. 'Your father, on the other hand, favours a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable… a little more power and excellent for transfiguration.'

Harry had no idea what transfiguration was but since his list included a book on it, he presumed it was a type of magic. He wanted to ask the man if different woods were attuned to specific types of magic but the man went on. 'Well, I say he favours it. It's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.'

He had now come so close that they were almost nose and nose as the man bent down, touched a long finger to his scar, covered by his fringe, 'And that's where… curious… I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and half inches, yew and phoenix feather. Powerful, very powerful.'

He shook his head, as if to clear it from the gloomy thoughts. 'Well, then Mr. Potter. Let's get started.'

A measuring tape floated in front of him, 'Which is your wand arm?'

Harry wondered if he should tell him that he was ambidextrous ever since Uncle Vernon had broken his right arm and he was forced to write with his left. 'I'm right-handed, sir.'

'Hold out your arm. Yes, that's it,' he measured Harry from shoulder to wrist; from wrist to finger tips; wrist to elbow; elbow to shoulder; shoulder to floor and round his head. While he measured various parts of him, he lectured, 'Every Ollivander core has a powerful magical core. We use phoenix feathers, dragon heartstrings and unicorn hairs. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two phoenixes, dragons or unicorns are quite the same, nor two people.'

As the tape measure flopped on the floor, Harry realised that while the tape was measuring him, Ollivander was flitting about the shelves, taking out boxes and piling them in his hands. 'Right then. Try this one. Beech and unicorn hair. Flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.'

Harry had barely complied when the man had taken it out of his hand, giving him another. 'Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, whippy. Try …'

Harry had barely even touched it when it too was taken away from him.

'No, no. Ebony and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Go on, go on, try it out.'

Harry tried it out but again, the result was the same. He had no idea what was supposed to happen or what he was looking for. As the pile got larger, Harry grew more anxious by the wand and Ollivander grew more excited. Even giddy. 'Not to worry, not to worry. We'll find your wand here somewhere.'

'Tricky customer, eh. Not to worry,' Ollivander turned to look at him but not at him, at his scar. Harry felt a brush of magic in his head, but he might have been imagining it. 'Unusual combination, but yes, why not? Here. Try this. Holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple.'

It really looked like an unusual wand. Rather ugly, Harry thought. The base looked like a rough tree trunk and then the 'blade' was a lighter brown. He did see the anxiousness in Ollivander's step and the look he exchanged with Hagrid but chose not to show that he had noticed. Something was going here. That much was clear.

As soon as Harry picked up, there was a shrill, wailing sound, that hurt his ears terribly. If he hadn't dropped it because of it, he did drop it because it heated up and nearly singed his hand. Shocked, he looked up at the wandmaker with an apology on his lips, but he was looking wide-eyed at not Harry but the wand itself.

'Curious… how curious… Albus thought… Then it must be Alexander…'

Harry had no idea who this Alexander was but he had to ask, 'Umm. What's curious?'

Ollivander hesitated, seemed to be thinking of the right answer. 'It's curious that Albus was sure, and now I am tempted to agree with him, that the wand would go to Alexander, your brother. If it does, it would very curious, as the wand is the brother to the wand that gave you both your scars. The phoenix, whose tail feather resides in this wand, gave another feather. Just one other. 13 ½ inches, Yew... Powerful, very powerful. And If I had known what it was going out in the world to do…'

So, this Alexander was his brother. Harry felt a pang of jealousy and anger at him and it must have shown since Ollivander shook his head and went about collecting more boxes. 'Not to worry. We have plenty of wands here.'

It was a half an hour later, when they did, much to Harry's chagrin. He really didn't like his wand. Neither, did he think the wand like him… much. It felt like it was merely tolerating him. Ollivander shooed away his concerns when he told him, telling him he was imagining things.

'Curious… very curious. Well, well, looks like you take after your mother. Unusual but not unexpected …,' Ollivander trailed off, handing him the handsome light brown coloured wand, with a simple handle. All in all, it wasn't a bad looking wand.

The comment about his mother did bring up unresolved issues but then again, he had just found out that the woman had abandoned him to her hateful sister. He couldn't be expected to come to terms with it so quickly.

'Mr. Ollivander… why do we need wands?' he asked the man as he was wrapping the box in a brown paper bag. He really was curious, since he had thought that wizards and witches wouldn't be dependent of wooden sticks, rather like Gandalf, or Merlin or Morgana as in the tv shows. But then again, that was fiction.

Ollivander chuckled, 'we need wands, Mr. Potter so we can channel magic from our cores, to the cores in the wand, and then out, to get the desired effect. I presume you mean why can't we just use our hands?' Harry nodded, seeing as the old man had assumed correctly. 'Yes, isn't the magic inside us? Seems odd depending on wooden sticks.'

The man looked into his eyes as if seeing through him. 'Hmm... Well, wandless magic is possible but usually only for the most basic things. Such as levitating things or moving things but nothing as complex as charms or transfiguration or even more complex areas like warding, curse breaking or healing is possible without a wand.'

Harry nodded, and asked if he could get a book on wandlore. And that resulted in an hour-long discussion about the complex nature of wands and wand crafting. Harry left the shop, having gained a thoroughly satisfying lecture on the nature of magic, in the ancient wandmaker's opinion and why wands were needed.

Instead of going back to his aunt's house, Harry decided just to remain at the Inn for a month – just as his aunt had heavily implied. The month he had spent at Diagon Alley had been the happiest time in his life.

Not only was he properly fed, and a lot by Tom the barman, he had exercised regularly in the park nearby, and had grown a couple of inches with the help of the nutrition and growth potions the healer had given him.

He had explored the Alley in the first few days and spent the rest of the month reading all he could, his textbooks and otherwise, sitting in teashops and other inns. Harry had discovered another wand shop in Carkitt Market, called Wands by Gregorovitch. Apparently, he was the premiere European wandmaker who had retired and his shop in Germany had a branch in London.

His granddaughter, Mia operated the shop and was more than happy to assist in finding him another wand when he told her of his suspicions about his Ollivander wand. Shockingly, and surprisingly, when he had thought that he was making a mountain of a mole hill, she had agreed with him.

However, much to his chagrin, he hadn't been able to find another wand at her shop either. That was when she had requested her grandfather to come from their home in Austria. Unlike Ollivander however, the man with shaggy, grey hair and thick beard, hadn't tested different wands on him.

He only analysed his willow wand, listening to it as if it was speaking to him and had asked for a vial of his blood and left, with a promise of trying to find a wand for him.

That had been twenty days ago and Harry felt naked without a wand, since his willow wand was still in Mykew's possession. In return, the old man had gifted him several books he thought Harry should read, and a handwritten journal. Why the old man showed such kindness, Harry didn't ask. But he was honoured, nonetheless.

Two of the books were called on Occlumency, an art of blocking one's mind from intrusion and one on wand lore. Harry felt a little guilty about not telling him that Ollivander too had given him a book on wand lore but he didn't want the old man to take it back from him. Surprisingly, the European disagreed with Ollivander's opinions on wandless magic and had said so to Harry, even pointed out some spells in his journal.

The most productive day however, was two weeks ago when he had met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with half of her head blonde and half of it black, dressed in a regal green dress as he entered the posh robes shop called Twilfitt and Tattings.

As he asked for help for robes selecting robes from the assistant, the regal woman had taken one long, scrutinising look at him, asked his name and taken it upon herself to help him. Even though he asked her not to trouble herself and that he didn't want to an inconvenience to her, she hadn't listened to a word of protest.

Although, the look of giddiness on the shop assistant's face, when he had asked for a whole wardrobe, had been a little disconcerting, he soon learned that his apprehension was justified. Mrs. Malfoy and Eve, had taken great, sadistic pleasure in making him dress in a plethora of clothes, from countless combinations of shirts, trousers, robes and cloaks. Almost as if they were playing dress up with a doll.

Although, that day had cost him a great chunk out of his trust vault, he could confidently say, that was the most productive day in the month he had spent in the Alley. Not only had she enlightened him on wizarding fashion, types of fabric and robes, but also on wizarding customs and traditions, Hogwarts houses, and how blood mattered in the wizarding world.

Not only that, but she had gifted him a set of books on wizarding traditions and asked him to owl her should he need anything else. He had thanked her profusely and could hardly imagine anyone being this kind to someone they met in a shop for no reason. He was sure that she had some ulterior motive, but he couldn't care less.

She had already cared more for him than his wretched relatives or his absentee parents ever had and that counted for a lot in his book. As he got ready for the morning to make sure that he got to platform nine and three quarters on time for the train, he was acutely aware of his lack of wand.

'Sookie,' he called out. Instantly, a female house-elf barely reaching his waist, large blue eyes and droopy ears, appeared before him. She had been another gift from Mrs. Malfoy. Actually, he had bought Sookie from her for a generous price when she offered to let him borrow Sookie until he got a house elf of his own.

'Yes, Master Harry!' she bowed so low that he thought her nose would touch the floor. And no matter how many times he had asked her not to bow, she adopted a look of horror every time and blatantly refused to show him such disrespect.

'Sookie,' he hesitated, wondering how to word the order in such a way that she would not start wailing yet again. 'Could you go to Mia Gregorovitch at the wand shop and ask her if she has my wand made?'

Her eyes bulged to double their size and with watery irises she asked, 'Master wants me to bring his wand? Yous will allow Sookie to hold a wand?'

And before he could stop her, she promptly burst into another fountain of tears as she wailed about how good, kind and great he was. He sighed exasperatedly. He really didn't want to be late. 'Sookie!'

'Yes, Master! Sookie be going at once!'

Harry shook his head, wondering how in the world would he able to calm her down. Deliberately dressed in muggle clothes, he went down to have a decent sized breakfast. Apparently, according to Tom, Hogwarts was somewhere in Northern Scotland and the train ride from King's Cross took most of the day.

He idly wondered where Sookie had gone and if Mia had been sleeping and felt a little guilty about unleashing his excitable elf on her this early in the morning. Sookie wouldn't let her lie down for a minute until she gave her his wand.

Chuckling at the thought of Sookie harassing the kind lady at the wand shop, he scanned through today's copy of the Daily Prophet that Tom had given him with his breakfast.

He growled in annoyance as he saw yet another picture of the family he hated, shopping in Diagon Alley. It seemed James Potter didn't want to go anywhere, even shopping, without at least getting a photo in the paper.

This time it was a picture of him, his wife, son and daughter shopping for Alexander's school things along with a short article by Rita Skeeter. The picture also showed the boy and his father, grinning like fools as he showed off his newly acquired wand.

Harry threw away the paper, not paying further attention to the article. It was only nearly ten, and he had an hour to go. Twenty minutes later, Sookie was waiting in his room, having already packed his trunk and warded it with her own magic as she handed him a letter and his willow wand. Apparently, Gregorovitch was having trouble finding a compatible core for his wand and needed more time.

Harry sighed sadly as started to lug his trunk down the stairs. There was nothing that could be done about it now.

'NO!' he was startled when Sookie took the trunk from his hands. 'Sookie will take Master's trunk.'

'We need to get to the platform, Sookie,' Harry replied, wondering if she can get such a heavy trunk. He need not worried as she levitated it and with a crack, she was gone.

Harry really needed to learn how to apparate. It seemed such a useful ability. Perhaps without the loud sound though. It gained too much attention. A few minutes later, he had appeared through one of the fireplaces lining the platform nine and three quarters.

This time, he controlled his look of awe. There were future classmates around and it would not do to look like a buffoon awestruck by a scarlet steam train. A few feet away from, in the midst of a throng of reporters and cameramen, and fans stood his 'family'. Harry, reigning in his temper, managed to manoeuvre his way round the crowd.

So focused was he at not being spotted by any of the four people, he didn't see the two girls behind him as he turned.

'Ugh!' Crash.

He picked up his trolley, looking around to see who he had bumped into. And there, getting up from the ground, was a furious looking blonde girl who being helped up by her brunette friend.

'I'm so sorry,' Harry apologised profusely, as he offered her his hand to pull her up but she batted it away. What was she angry about? It was a bump. And then he saw the large orange stain on her robes and the fallen cup. Oh, right.

He apologised for his clumsiness again, or at least, he attempted to but she cut him. 'You should be sorry,' the blonde girl scowled at him. 'You should watch where you're going.'

Harry had already apologised quite a lot, more than he ever does to anyone. But now, he was beginning to get annoyed at the girl's haughty tone. 'Well, you could have watched where you were going yourself,' he answered, scowling at her. He knew it was petty but he couldn't help himself.

'Excuse me! Do you know who I…', the girl started to say, astonished that anyone would talk to her like that, especially someone clearly muggleborn, from his clothes. But maybe it was because he was muggleborn that he was so impertinent.

But Harry didn't let her finish, 'It's just that you have eyes yourself, woman.'

Her eyes widened, even as her friend chuckled behind her hand, 'Woman! Stop calling me woman…'

'I don't know your name,' Harry answered in a matter-of-fact tone. But she was clearly angry. And he wanted to see if he could use it against her. From her robes and her tone, she was clearly an elite.

'I am Daphne of House Greengrass …', she started but Harry ignored her for the more interesting of the two, only giving her a nod before she finished her own introduction.

He also noticed the fact that she hadn't extended her hand as was custom. So, he wasn't in any obligation to receive her introduction in the proper manner either.

Harry rolled his eyes, and then looked at her friend, deciding to piss off the blonde girl even more. 'Hadrian Evans, Ms…'

She saw him looking at her and introduced herself, 'Tracey of the House Davis,' smiling at him as she extended her hand to shake his.

Harry didn't know if it was a pureblood name or not, but decided not care for the moment. He gave a bow and took her hand, turning it over and brushing his lips on the first two knuckles. 'A pleasure, Ms. Davis.'

Tracey was momentarily surprised by his manners, at least to her, 'A pleasure, Mr. Evans.'

Harry nodded, releasing her hand and replied, 'I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts' and promptly exited their vicinity, not even addressing the blonde girl whose name he didn't know.

He could almost hear her spluttering as he chuckled and got onto the next carriage that looked less crowded and entered an empty compartment at the end of it.

'That went well,' Harry said to himself. So much for a good first impression. He had already screwed his up. But at least, of the several people that saw their little tumble, the Potters weren't one of them. But there was still half an hour to go and Harry had no intention of being trapped in a train compartment when he had to spend the entire day in it.

And so, making sure that his fringe was in place covering his scar, and his muggle hat was covering his forehead, Harry exited the train. But not before looking at his reflection in a hand mirror he had brought.

After one night when aunt Petunia shaved his hair off, he had discovered his ability to change his appearance. It took an immense amount of concentration and a clear visual of what he wanted but he was able to change his face or hi hair, somewhat. He couldn't grow taller or shorter but then again, he didn't need it.

With fifteen minutes remaining to the train's departure, and it would leave whether or not anyone was ready, people appeared out of thin, rushing through the platform wall and from the fireplaces in a hurry to get their children's trunks loaded onto the train.

As Harry stood behind a pillar and observed them, he scoffed at the stupidity of these people. Some wizards and witches, after apparating, actually stumbled somewhat – some even falling to the ground as their children clung onto them. Pathetic. For someone who should be used to that mode of transport, they sure as hell weren't very good at it.

These were his school and potential year mates, and Harry observed several of those that looked to be his age. One plump and pudgy, blonde haired boy desperately clung to what looked like a frog – no, a toad – as an elderly witch with a very ugly vulture hat, quite clearly lectured him.

Another plump redhead girl tightly hugged her equally redhead mother. She had quite a pleasant face, he noticed. Though, it was marked by a few tears. A blonde girl with her hair in a pig-tail stood near the redhead duo with her parents and she too looked quite nervous.

Harry pushed down the feelings of jealousy at their luck. They actually had family to say goodbye to them. His, meanwhile, didn't even bother showing up to take him shopping when his letter arrived. But maybe they didn't know. Oh, who the hell cares. He sure doesn't. He buried those feelings in exchange for disgust at such a show of weakness from many of his potential peers.

That was when he saw a curtain of blonde and black hair, cascading down her back elegantly. Narcissa Malfoy walked her regal walk with who he presumed was her husband and her son, Lucius and Draco if he remembered correctly.

Even though both older Malfoys were wearing simple black robes, they easily looked more expensive than anything anyone else was wearing on the train. The trio made their way to the train and would have gotten on it un-accosted, as they passed a large family of redheads had the youngest redhead boy not said something to the young Malfoy.

Harry noticed, with a pang of anger, that the redhead family, seven in total, were standing with the Potters. He clenched his fists, enough so his nails were digging into his palms squashing the anger deep inside and replacing it with coldness, he forced his smile on his face, in case someone was watching.

Whatever the redhead said to Draco prompted an immediate argument between the two, which in turn almost immediately pulled their fathers in and their sons. The whole situation quickly escalated, all because of a careless comment from one idiot boy.

The women looked like they were caught in between trying to defend their husbands and not causing a scene on a very platform on a very busy day. However, the argument escalated to the max when somehow, the three young boys who were the loudest, had somehow had their wands out.

Harry scoffed at the stupidity of it all. He could Mrs. Malfoy as the one with the greatest restraint, her face showing little to nothing of what she was feeling. It was a good thing she didn't see him or she would have been most certainly disappointed in his clothes. But they served a purpose, for him, at least.

The other two mothers, both curiously redheads, were less successful in hiding their emotions, if they were even trying that is. The plump one, with messy hair, wore a skirt, which looked more like a rag to him – and he had much experience wearing rags. There was an even younger girl, her daughter clutching her rag, skirt, thing as she too glared at the Malfoys.

Beside them, the skinnier redhead – his 'mother' – too had a young girl behind her. One that looked even younger and smaller than her counterpart and one who wasn't clutching her mother. The girl, unlike her mother, and the other girl, was curiously not glaring at the Malfoys.

Either she was confused as to what was going on or she was more sensible than any of them. He couldn't know which it was.

He shook his head the absurdity of the situation when there was an alarm, the first of three, which signalled that the train was about to depart. Harry, quickly turned back, making sure none of them saw him watching the show, and hurried on the train and made his way to his, hopefully, still empty compartment.

The amusement from the show he had just watched quickly fled from him as he opened the door to his compartment. Of course, it was just his luck when the two people who were in the compartment, were the ones he had knocked to the ground.

There was a barely concealed groan from the blonde girl. 'What are you doing here, Evans?', she asked him icily, while her friend only had an expression of mirth on her face. He found, he liked her much more than her icy friend regardless of the latter being the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

But of course, he was never one to let stinging comments go, a side effect from living with his wretched aunt. 'Excuse me, lady, but I was here first,' he pointed to his trunk that was on the rack. 'You don't mind, do you, Ms. Davis?'

She giggled and shook her head, 'No, not at all, Mr. Evans.'

While they both found the situation funny, the blonde girl soon lost her patience with his impertinence, 'You need to leave.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. Not that he wanted to stay with this girl but it was too late to find another compartment. And he probably would have left if she had asked properly and nicely. But as it happens, he was feeling petty.

With a defiant puff of his chest, he smirked and deliberately exaggerated his strut to his former place beside the window, 'Sorry lady, but I was here first. You're welcome to leave if you want,' and turned to her friend. 'Not you, of course, Ms. Davis.'

The brunette, however, surprised him when she said, 'Umm. You might not like the company who might come to visit.'

Harry wondered who she was talking about. Purebloods? Hmm. That might be interesting. 'Thank you for the warning, Ms. Davis. I assure you I have plenty of experience dealing with people I don't like.'

And with that, the conversation was over as the girls took out a magazine to share, Witch Weekly, he noticed. He too, wasn't much for idle chit chat, and was glad for the respite as he took Gregorovitch's journal and a fountain pen he had bought from the Writing Supplies shop in Carkitt Market.

He was already well on his way to finishing some of their textbooks and had made decent notes from the books. But he found that he found the journal more interesting, as it consisted of Gregorovitch's notes on the nature of magic, how to manipulate it, for beginners. Harry frequently compared it to their charm's textbook.

The train had left the station ten minutes ago when their compartment door opened yet again. Harry groaned. Just his luck. The redhead boy who had started the argument with Draco popped his head in. 'Excuse me, do you mind. Everywhere else is full.'

Harry was about to tell him to go elsewhere when he saw someone was behind the boy. Ten guesses as to who it was. A plan started forming into his head. But for that to work, he had to tolerate his presence. 'No, of course not.'

He saw the Daphne Greengrass shoot him a glare, but thankfully she didn't say anything. Tracey only nodded and her eyes lit up when his 'brother' walked in.

They stopped when they spotted the girls. It seems as if the redhead boy hadn't noticed the two girls when he asked Harry. What an idiot.

He saw Alexander's eyes narrow and he doubted the two girls missed it either. Did they have some history. The redhead was about to say something when Alexander sat down, 'Come on, Ron. Let's just sit here.'

The redhead, Ron, begrudgingly sat down, but not before he sent a few glares at Daphne. Now Harry was really amused. It only helped his plan that none of them knew who he really was.

'I'm Alexander by the way. Alexander Potter,' the offered his hand to Harry who shook it with a smile, noting the slight puff of Alexander's chest by the way he said the name Potter. Exact opposite to what Harry felt at the accursed name.

'And this is my best friend, Ron Weasley,' Alexander motioned to the gangly and freckled redhead beside him.

'Adrian Evans,' Harry omitted the H, but it seems from Alexander's expression, he was oblivious anyhow. Bad move. Daphne had slightly narrowed eyes. Maybe she was a little suspicious about him.

Harry wondered if he should introduce the two girls as they hadn't volunteered their names. 'And these are…'

It seems he hadn't needed to, as Alexander said, 'Greengrass and Davis. We know.'

'Potter. Weasley,' Tracey replied with a nod. Her eyes were still somewhat guarded but didn't have the calculating expression of her friend.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Well, at least, for now. Fortunately, the brewing tension in the compartment, subsided when the trolley lady arrived and Harry, who pretended to be eager to try out the new sweets, bought enough for the five of them.

Daphne though, flat out refused to share any. Harry shrugged uncaringly. It's not like he was desperate to share food with her. Tracey, however, was more than happy to help them cut down the food.

That seemed to get the two boys to open up about themselves. What idiots, he thought. Harry picked up a box of jelly beans, 'Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans?'

Okay, he hadn't tried those before. Maybe being a regular kid wasn't so bad, but then again, he had never been regular.

It was Tracey who answered just as Weasley was about to, 'Yes, they mean every flavour. There's chocolate and peppermint. There's also spinach, liver and tripe.'

Harry, knew as soon as he put one into his mouth that he had gotten the tripe one. Resisting the urge to puke, he immediately popped his head out of the window and spit it out, ignoring the snickering from Tracey and the laughter from the two boys.

'George swore he got a bogey flavoured once,' said Weasley, more to Alexander than anything.

It seemed Alexander had to do one up and replied, 'I got earwax! It was disgussttinnng.'

Harry looked at Ron's rat, who was munching on a cauldron cake and making a mess on Ron's lap and suddenly he was regretting his decision to invite them in. He looked away from the disgusting creature. He hated rats and he hated mess.

The only good thing, he mused, that came out from living with his aunt. Not that she cleaned the house. She just took credit for the abnormally clean house that she worked him as a slave, to obtain. And so, after seven years of cleaning like a house-elf, Harry had developed quite an aversion to mess.

And it seems, from the way, Potter and Weasley were eating, they never had to do one day of cleaning up after themselves.

'Chocolate frogs? They aren't real frogs, are they?' he asked Tracey, hoping to include them in the conversation now that Potter and Weasley were animatedly talking about something called Chudley Cannons.

Daphne almost dropped her jaw at his stupid comment and Harry barely managed not to grin at how well his act was going.

'No, it's not. It's just a spell,' Tracey replied, chuckling, no doubt, at his expense.

'Besides, it's the cards you want,' Harry turned to look over at Weasley who was leaning forwards greatly.

'Yeh. Each card's got a famous witch or wizard. I've got about five hundred meself,' Potter added with pride. Harry didn't know why he would be proud of that.

He opened his own, and there indeed, was a chocolate frog, which at once croaked, and with a single jump, was out the window.

'Watch it! Ah, that's rotten luck, they've only got one good jump in em, to begin with,' Weasley said, shaking his head in disappointment. Harry couldn't care less. He hated chocolate and frogs.

'Hey, I've got Dumbledore,' he said, looking at the image of the aged wizard on the card, making himself sound more pleased than anything.

'I've got about six of him,' Alexander said with a grin. And Ronald seemed to be share his sentiments about the man.

Daphne, however, rolled her eyes and Tracey only smirked. Hmm. Did that mean they didn't like him? Was it his pro-muggleborn views? Harry would have to research more on the matter.

'Ah, I've got you, Potter,' he was distracted from his musings and was surprised to see Tracey holding a card with Alexander's face on it.

He couldn't believe the public would let their hero worship exaggerate to this extent.

Alexander puffed with pride and grinned, 'Dad got them to update the picture they had on it!'

And obnoxious. He added that to the mental list of traits he was compiling about the four people in his compartment. He wanted to ask why they had him on it but at the same time didn't want to look like a complete idiot for not knowing about the boy-who-lived. Granted, this was just an act but that didn't mean that he wanted to look like a complete moron.

So, he decided to change the subject. Fortunately, he was saved from choosing one when Alexander commented on his father potentially being promoted. He thought he saw a flash of something on Weasley's face – jealousy perhaps – but he might have imagined it.

'So, you guys have any siblings?' Harry asked nonchalantly, or hopefully, it seemed nonchalant as he ate a pumpkin pasty.

That turned out to be the right thing to say as Weasley went on and on about his siblings, of which there were many and what they do. His oldest brother, Bill Weasley worked as a curse breaker for Gringott's; Charlie worked with dragons in Romania; Percy was a perfectionist prefect. Then there were the twins, who were the mischief makers.

Here Alexander commented that they idolised James Potter and his friends, Moony and Padfoot. Harry, immediately realised that he may know this, Padfoot. Occasionally, he had dreams about someone he called Pafoo.

And then it was Ronald and his younger sister, Ginny. So, she must have been the one clutching her mother's skirt and gazing up at Alexander admiringly.

'What about you. You have any siblings?' Alexander Potter asked him and Harry saw the boy looking at his face somewhat suspiciously. Did he suspect? No. He didn't seem like an observant type. Regardless, he needed to deflect the question.

'Nah. I'm an only child,' he replied and decided that some truth needed to be included in his lie. 'I'm an orphan.'

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' Tracey replied, and glared at Potter when he asked how.

Harry saw Daphne was busy being indifferent to pay attention to him so it was safe enough to create a story. 'My aunt told me that my parents died in a car crash when I was younger and I was given to my relatives by the authorities.'

'Where do you live?' Alexander asked. It was clear that he wasn't giving up on it anytime soon. Harry hoped that he could keep track of all the stories he was making up.

'Chelsea, in London,' he replied. 'You?', he asked, hoping it would shift the attention on him.

'We live in London as well,' Alexander replied. 'Well, we used to live in Godric's Hollow but not after the attack.'

Harry only nodded. He had read about the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow which was now a memorial and belonged to the Ministry.

But it was Tracey who asked, 'I thought House Potter had a manor?'

He could Daphne too was interested in this answer as she listened more closely, while pretending that she was reading her magazine. He smirked; the girl really was subtle. But not as much as him.

Potter mumbled something incoherently and when Tracey asked what he said, he snapped, 'I said we don't have it anymore, okay!'

'Okay, sorry,' Tracey held her hands up in front of her to emphasise the fact.

'So, what about your family?' Harry asked Potter, hoping to defuse the tension long enough so he could get some answers.

Alexander's annoyed look immediately changed to one of pride. 'My dad's a senior Auror. There's been some talk of him being promoted to Head of a different department but he likes being an auror too much.'

Harry resisted the urge to snort. No shit. There was always some story in the papers about his escapades. He thought half of them were absolute fiction but he kept that to himself.

'My mum's just got her charms mastery and my little sister, Rose is ten…' he trailed off, looking again at Harry's face.

It was then he realised what was getting him suspicious. He cursed himself mentally. His accursed eyes. Did he have the same eyes as the little brat.

But thankfully, it was Tracey who saved him. He did, however see Daphne sending her a glare, 'Don't you have a brother as well?'

Alexander immediately narrowed his eyes at that. 'How do you know that, Davis?'

Harry too was curious. Not to mention a little apprehensive that he would be caught in the act before his plan was complete.

It was Daphne who answered, much to everyone's surprise, as she had yet to speak a word to any of the boys. 'Draco told us over the summer.'

Alexander growled, 'Draco! Of course, he'd butt into something that's not his business!'

'How did he even know?!' Weasley snarled. 'Slimy snake!'

'His father is on the board of governors,' Tracey replied, smirking at the obvious discomfort Alexander Potter was in. Weird, she didn't seem vindictive to him but why was she happy about this.

Something was going on and Harry had no clue what it was. And he hated it. But obviously, playing the oblivious muggleborn, he couldn't just ask.

Seeing Harry's questioning gaze, Alexander replied, 'Yes. I do.'

Before anyone could ask something else, Alexander turned to his friend, 'Come on, Ron. Let's go find him and make sure he's not sitting with some snakes.'

Harry managed not to grin at the wild goose chase they would go on. Daphne snorted in a rather un-ladylike manner as Tracey outright laughed once both boys were out of the compartment.

Harry was quite content with the lack of mindless chatter as both girls whispered to each other and he read his journal, occasionally making some notes or underlining things to do further research on. Although, it was quite interesting but what Harry needed was to do read the wandlore books he had but he knew it would attract too much attention.

And so, with occasional short discussions, they passed the time until the time when a visibly disappointed Alexander Potter and a rather red, Ron Weasley entered the compartment again. It was obvious that their quest had experienced some unexpected bumps and so, none of the three already present asked anything about it. Even though, Harry wanted to ask why Alexander's brother wasn't with him.

But it would be so much more fun when his arrival would be unexpected. That was, after all, why he had deliberately dressed up in muggle clothes. For he had assumed that no-one would recognise him if he wasn't wearing wizard robes, and his scar was covered. Neither would his family, who would be, of course, wearing robes.

He was a little confused about his disappointment when neither James nor Lily Potter was dressed in wizarding robes, but in muggle jeans and shirt. No wonder Mrs. Malfoy and her husband had looked at the Potters so disdainfully. It made him even gladder that he hadn't shown his own face and clothes to Mrs. Malfoy.

Eventually, as he read over the Hogwarts Houses again in Hogwarts: A History and got tired over Potter and Weasley eaten their weight in sweets while occasionally commenting how boring the other three were for reading on the train.

The rolling fields of green, wheat and barley around was beginning to change into lush, green hills as they ascended towards Norther England. The sky showed that dusk would be upon them soon as the Sun was starting to set.

Perhaps it was time for them to change. The girls had changed a while ago but Harry hadn't, waiting to go to the toilets and change all at once. But this current chapter reminded him of what he wanted to ask the others in the compartment.

'Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow, wanna see?' Weasley suddenly as Potter, who look intrigued. Harry thought he saw a particular glint in his eye, perhaps at the idea of trying it out on a person for a prank.

Wouldn't be too large a stretch, given what he said about his father and godfather being pranksters at school. 'Yehh. Go on,' he said excitedly, putting away the cauldron cake he was stuffing.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the particularly worn out wand Weasley withdrew from his pocket. Harry could tell it had seen better days. Didn't first years get their wands by getting chosen by them? This clearly wasn't his wand.

One, it was quite long for someone his size. Two, it looked old. Three, it had a bit of unicorn hair sticking out from the end of it. Harry could feel the magic within the wand fading. Even at Ollivanders and then Gregorovitch, after trying hundreds of wands, he got a feeling of the cores and their magic.

Even without seeing the unicorn hair sticking out of it, Harry could have known what it was. Woods, he found were much harder to identify.

Both Tracey and Daphne were looking at the weathered wand pointed at the rather fat, disgusting rat sitting on Weasley's lap.

'Hem hemm…' Weasley cleared his throat and readied himself. Before he could get to it, however, a girl with white skin, a lot of bushy brown hair, and two rather large front teeth, appeared on their compartment toad. She took one look around, let out an exasperated sigh and asked, 'Has anyone seen a toad. A boy's named Neville's lost one.'

'No!' Weasley replied, annoyed at being interrupted but the girl didn't seem to notice his tone. Perhaps, she was just as oblivious as the two boys.

That was when she saw the wand pointed at the rat and her eyes shone, 'Oh… Are you doing magic? Let's see then.'

'Sunshine, daisy, butter, mellow…. Turn this stupid fat rat yellow!' Weasley tapped the wand point at his rat, which gave a surprised squeak and fell off Weasley's lap. Other than that, nothing happened to it, which was quite expected, really.

'Are you sure that's a real spell,' the girl asked, obviously rhetorically. 'Well, it's not very good, is it?'

Weasley turned to Potter and rolled his eyes but the girl carried on, much to Harry's amusement. 'Of course, I've only tried a few simple one's myself. But they've all worked for me.'

And much to everyone's surprise, the girl welcome herself into the compartment and seated herself across from Potter. 'For example,' she pointed her wand, which had what looked like vines wrapped around the length of the wand, for most of it, and it had no handle, straight at Potter's face.

Surprised, Alexander was about to say something or perhaps take out his own wand but she spoke first, 'Occulus reparo!'

For a second, Harry thought she was going to jinx but then recognised the fixing spell. And that was when everyone noticed the skewed glasses of Potter's frame fixed themselves.

Harry, as well as others, he could tell, were quite impressed at the obvious mastery of that particular charm the girl demonstrated. Perhaps, she wasn't a first year.

But one look at her unadorned Hogwarts robes told them she was. She would be one to keep an eye on of course.

'Holy cricket! You're Alexander Potter! I know all about you of course – I got a few extra books for background reading and you're in Modern Magical History and the Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and the Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,' she said it all in one go, seemingly only then realising that there were others in the compartment and blushed, while mumbling something incoherent.

'I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger,' she said introducing herself to the compartment at large and turned to him. 'And you are?'

Harry smirked and for once was tempted to tell her his real name, just to see what her reaction would be. But the gleam in her eyes was still there, so he decided against it. Her eyes were a most curious shade of brown, like chocolate. 'Adrian Evans.'

And just like that, she was off, again, 'Muggleborn too. Of course, I am well. I mean, no one in my family is at all magical. It was ever a surprise when my letter came. Of course, that explained all the strange things that were happening and my parents were a little apprehensive that it might be a joke. But, of course, when Professor McGonagall turned a teacup into a kitten, we were all pretty quickly convinced. Did she come to get you too? I bet your parents were surprise? Did you do much accidental magic?'

Harry blinked at the rapidity of her questions. That said much about her thoughts. He was tempted to rebuke her for her rudeness. But it was also clear that she was quite anxious that she wouldn't fit in this new world. Perhaps, she was worried that she wouldn't make any friends.

So, he answered as civilly as possible, even though he hated nosy people, thanks to his aunt who was a creep of the highest order, 'Muggle raised. And no, she didn't come to get me. I went to Diagon Alley by myself. My aunt dropped me there. I live quite close to it anyway so it wasn't that hard.'

'Oh right,' Hermione nodded and turned to question the others, not noticing the narrowed eyes of Daphne Greengrass. But was that because of him or her, he wasn't sure. Hermione seemingly encouraged by Tracey's amused expression, was discussing the accidental magic she did.

Harry half-listened, as he struggled to get the envy out of his head. Even if he did succeed, he might not get it out of his heart. The sight of parents lovingly saying goodbye to their children on the platform; of mothers hugging their sons as if their life depended on it; the stories of Hermione's parents being happy at their displays of magic, hurt him more than he would ever admit.

No. That was stupid. He told himself to get his head out of his arse and stop thinking like a sentimental, emotional girl. He didn't need parents. He didn't need love. He would survive in this world without them, despite of them, he vowed.

The last part of his lie to Tracey got him thinking. What would happen once he returned from school for the summer? He hardly wanted to live with the Dursleys. But perhaps, it would be better than living with his parents, who would no doubt want to take custody of him once they realised, he was a wizard. He didn't know how he felt about that.

Most likely, he would need a place of his own, if he didn't want to stay in the Leaky Cauldron for all of summer, which didn't seem like a feasible thing to do anyway. Which then brought up the issue of money. Even though he would have five thousand in his trust vault again, it wouldn't be enough to buy an apartment. Not that he wanted to live in the muggle world.

A poisonous thought entered his mind but he pushed it out of his head as soon as it came. He didn't want to be a criminal. Not now, that he had found a world where he belonged in.

He did feel guilty about lying so much to Tracey, as much as Dudley really but it was necessary to avoid recognition, for now. He consoled himself that he wasn't like his whale of a cousin. Dudley lied for the fun of it and to get others in trouble. Harry lied for survival. Self-preservation.

As soon as he had thought, he was already thinking up ways to make sure his sorting goes his way. Perhaps he had missed something in Hogwarts: A History. He had read it once but couldn't remember how sorting worked. Mrs. Malfoy hadn't told him either, sadly. He resolved to find it somewhere in the book as he took out his copy.

And before he knew it, the ever-talkative Hermione was leaving the compartment, telling Weasley how he had dirt on his nose, resulting in a snort and snickering from Tracey.

It seemed that Tracey had noticed Harry reading the section on the traits of the houses again, as she asked, 'So, what house do you think you'll be in?'

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that Tracey knew legilimency. Who knows, she might.

He thought about it for a second, considered his current audience and settled on the safest option, even though he didn't particularly like it, 'Ravenclaw suits me best, I think.'

'Why is that?' she asked, looking genuinely interested in it as opposed to fishing for knowledge to use against him.

'I don't know… I suppose none of the others suit me…' he answered somewhat truthfully. 'Also… not to be beat my own drum… but I think I'm intellectual and I like learning.'

Daphne almost snorted but he could tell that she successfully passed it off as a cough. But he ignored it for a more important matter. Potter.

'What about you?' he asked Tracey, 'Slytherin, I presume?'

He didn't ask Daphne because it was obvious where she wanted to go. Her calculating expressions were a dead giveaway. And here he thought, Slytherins were meant to be subtle. Nothing about the way she glared was subtle.

'Of course,' she replied, smirking, giving a look towards to the two boys who looked like they were going to puke at the thought of Slytherin. 'Although, my mother was a Ravenclaw.'

'Chh. Who would want to be a slimy snake?' Weasley scoffed, throwing a glare towards the two girls but more aimed at Daphne.

'He's right, Adrian,' Alexander added. 'They're all sneaky and evil. You don't want to be friends with snakes, trust me.'

The girls looked especially confronted at this. 'Excuse you! Not at all Slytherins are evil, just so you know,' Tracey replied vehemently.

'Leave it, Trace,' Daphne glared at the boys, Harry included. 'It's nothing their tiny brains could comprehend.'

His nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper. Harry had to reply to that, 'I don't know why you're including me in that, lady.'

Her eyes narrowed, annoyed, at that but before she could answer, Harry turned to the other two and said, 'I don't know. I figure you two would be Slytherins.'

Silence greeted his comment. Then that silence turned to the looks of horror from them. And then a yell.

'What?! Take that back!'

'I am a Potter! I won't be a slimy snake!'

Even the girls had dumbfounded looks on their faces, although Daphne's was gone before Tracey's. They probably thought he was an idiot for thinking so.

Harry rolled his eyes at their narrow mindedness and said, 'Think about it, Weasley. What are Slytherins known for, more than anything else?'

'Ambition,' Tracey replied, her face one of confusion as she too didn't know where he was going with his. And so was Daphne's. Harry hoped this confusion would remain until the sorting. However, they do it.

'Exactly. From what you've told us, Weasley, you feel overshadowed by older brothers, all of whom have good, successful careers and, or, things they're particularly good at. Even the twins, from what you've mentioned, are geniuses at pranks and mischief; Percy has perfect grades and is a prefect; the older two have successful careers at Gringotts and in the Romanian Reserve.'

So, it is your ambition, and your dream above anything else, to be greater than any of them. To do your parents proud. To be rich,' Harry was grasping at straws here but it was necessary. 'If I had a guess, I'd say it is your ambition to be a Professional Quidditch Player. For the Chudley Cannons, perhaps. And so, you want to be selected for house team, preferably as a Keeper since Charlie was a seeker and the twins are beaters.'

Weasley's eyes widened comically at his dream being verbalised by someone else. He hadn't said any of this, but it was quite obvious from the way he talked about the sport and his borderline obsession with Chudley Cannons. Why anyone would pick such a horrendous name, he didn't know.

The redhead however, wasn't willing to listen and kept grumbling about how Weasleys were always Gryffindors and how they're a light family. Why does the type of magic you practice matter to what house you would be in?

Harry decided not to lay it on too thick after a second thought, 'Think about it, Weasley. And if you do get sorted into Gryffindor, I'll buy you a new wand.'

That got him the shocked looks from the other four. 'What makes you think he needs a new wand, Evans!' Alexander asked him, noting the way his friend had gone red.

Harry resisted the urge to snort. 'Because I'm not blind. I'm sure Tracey and Daphne have noticed…'

'I never gave you leave to call me by my given name!' Daphne snapped at him, raising her head from her magazine. What was the deal with her? First, she doesn't go by the customs when introducing herself, then when he doesn't do it, she snaps at him. Girls. Ugh. He could never understand.

'Fine, I'm sure Tracey too noticed that that's not Weasley's wand,' Harry continued, omitting the latter's name altogether, not wanting to get in an argument.

Tracey nodded, confirming his assumption, 'It's too worn-out.'

Weasley, if possible was going redder, judging by his ears and mumbled something like, 'Charlie's…'

But before his embarrassment could escalate, Alexander deliberately changed the subject, or rather, brought it back to the original, 'I'm not going to be a Slytherin! I'm a Potter and I'm the Boy-Who-Lived!'

Harry rolled his eyes at the boy's arrogance. He was already too proud of his title. Granger didn't need to go inflating his pride even more by mentioning those books. 'I think you're quite suited to Slytherin, actually.'

Daphne scoffed, 'And I'm a Hufflepuff,' she added sarcastically, eyeing the two boys and then going to back to her magazine. There was something similar about them but she couldn't put a finger on it. It was troubling her to no end, ever since Potter had come into their compartment. Of course, she had met Alexander bloody Potter before. In Ministry balls and the like. Their families didn't really run in the same circle but their fathers were acquaintances.

One would have to be living under a rock to be unaware of Alexander Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the only survivor of the Killing Curse and who defeated the Dark Lord when he was only one. Every child in their world had grown up hearing stories of him. They had books and even merchandise dedicated to him.

That was the only reason she knew that the boys didn't know each other beforehand. She could also see that there was some underlying animosity between them. But how could a no name muggleborn, new to their world, possibly hold a candle to the Potter heir.

'Hufflepuff is still better than Slytherin!' Potter insisted stubbornly.

Then there was the matter of just what this muggleborn was planning. He clearly had some motivation behind the senseless stuff he was sprouting. She just didn't know what it was. No one in their sane mind would say that a Potter and a Weasley would ever be sorted in Slytherin. But perhaps, he wasn't aware of their houses was the reason this muggleborn was saying such. Typical ignorant mudblood! all eager to change their world in the likeness of the muggle one.

Harry considered what he was going to say for a minute, wondering how he should spin it, 'You desire to be great. Not because you're the Boy-Who-Lived, or because, you're James Potter's only son. No, you want to be great and be known as more than just that title. You want to get out of its shadow, and of your father.'

Now, he really was spouting crap, Daphne snorted at his idiocy. Anyone who knew about the Potters was aware of how the family was lorded as the definition of greatness already. Stupid boy.

Expectedly and unsurprisingly, Potter denied it vehemently, glaring at the muggleborn who presumed to know anything about their world. Ironically, they were the same thoughts as hers. Daphne never thought she'd be thinking that.

Harry cursed mentally. Daphne was scrutinising him with her piercing gaze. He shouldn't have spoken this much. Now, it was impossible to avoid her suspicion. But one cannot have everything, he supposed.

Thankfully, both Potter and Weasley seemed too stupid to realise something was off.

'I think we're nearing Hogsmeade,' Tracey said, looking out the windows. He didn't know how she knew but Potter agreed with her. Maybe they had been to the school before. It wouldn't surprise him.

'Where're you going?' Weasley asked, as Harry put his book back into his trunk and made heaved it off the rack.

'Toilet,' Harry answered, knowing that he wouldn't have to haul it all the way and so he left it in the compartment. They better not think of peeking into his trunk or he would be very upset at this breach in his privacy.

'What in Merlin's name?!' Weasley jumped, shocked at what had just happened. And so were the others. Not as much as shocked, but quite surprised.

Potter hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when his trunk just disappeared from the rack.

'I don't think he's coming back,' Tracey said after a couple of minutes.

'Chh. Good riddance,' Potter replied. 'Come on, Ron. We gotta change.' Honestly, he was tired of his know-it-all attitude. He didn't even know about magic until a month ago and he presumed to know anything about them. About House Potter, to even suggest that he, Alexander Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived might be a Slytherin, was preposterous.

With every first of September, Severus Snape watched with a gloomy outlook on life as a new, fresh group of dunderheads entered the halls, for him to attempt to teach the delicate art of Potions and for them to wave all his efforts away as they were nothing.

He hated children. Merlin only knows why he stayed at this school to teach. Oh, right. His oath that he had given Albus. Damn that old coot and his damned lemon drops.

But even though the other dunderheads may try to drive him insane, he could trust his Slytherins to be at least prepared for class before coming to it – if they knew what was good for them anyway. And his Slytherins knew that, at least when it came to him.

Ravenclaws weren't too bad either, what with their obsessive need to compile knowledge just for the sake of it. At least, they read the books before coming to class. Unlike Hufflepuffs who shuddered at the mere sight of him and the dunderhead, idiot Gryffindors who apparently didn't even bother opening their books let alone read them before class.

As he took his seat beside the stuttering fool Quirrell, he hoped that Minerva brought the first years with all hurry she can muster up. And as English, he knew very well that they were all well practiced in mustering.

He occasionally gave short answers to whatever questions were directed his way, however few. The only ones from the staff he could stand were Flitwick, and Sinistra. Even Minerva, more often than not, got on his nerves.

Snape mentally went over the list of families from which they were going to get students. If he remembered correctly – and he always did – Lucius' son, Draco would be starting this year, along with the children of Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson families as well as spawns of other Noble Houses.

Along with these ones, he knew that the children from Houses Davis, Greengrass, Bones, Abbot, MacMillan, Longbottom, Bulstrode, Weasley and Potter! He cursed mentally, for reminding himself, albeit unwittingly of his most hated childhood enemy.

If there was a personal hell, he was sure his would be starting today. He wasn't only getting one, but two arrogant sons of the even more obnoxious James Potter. He was cursed to teach them for seven years though he hoped that the brats wouldn't make it past five.

But as bleak as his next five to seven years looked, Severus consoled himself with the silver lining in this situation. Obnoxious Potter's equally obnoxious brats would definitely create mischief like their infernal father and that mutt godfather. And when they do, he would be there to deduct all those points from Gryffindor, for where else would they be sorted.

He didn't fool himself to believe that either would have inherited Lily's intelligence rather than their father's arrogance and stupidity. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her conversing with Pamona, as Filius and the headmaster eagerly discussed their favourite dramas on WWN. What was she doing here? Was she here to see her sons sorted into Gryffindor? That would make sense.

Finally, the set of double doors opened, drawing every teachers eye to the crowd of first years following his old Transfiguration teacher as she walked briskly in her no-nonsense pace. The same one, he remembered, from all those years ago when he walked behind her.

Immediately his eyes, much like the headmaster's and Lily's sought out the two most obvious students. Both walking in remarkably similar way, strutting down the length of the hall as if they owned the castle. He almost shuddered at the thought of them so similar. Almost, because no self-respecting Slytherin would do something so unsightly as shudder, in public.

That arrogance would be out of them soon enough. Draco was almost a sure thing for Slytherin and no one of third year or above would give much nearly as much free reign as the boy thought he was going to be getting.

And Potter! He would be damned in he let the boy become the same bullying heap of hippogriff shit that his damned father and godfather were. But it might be too late for it. Lily certainly would have tried but no Potter can resist the temptation of being attention seeking, arrogant bullies. It was basically in their DNA.

Lily certainly would have tried to instil some manners in the boy but it was doubtful he took any of them seriously. After all, the boy was Potter's heir and would no doubt be spoiled beyond belief like James Potter himself was when he started Hogwarts.

Speaking of Potters, where was the other spoilt dung heap?

In the toilets, Harry had changed from his muggle disguise, into proper wizarding robes and boots. He would have kept the black wizard's hat on, except it just looked plain foolish. As such, his scar was only hidden by his raven hair.

Also, he had released the magic on his face keeping his changes together. It took an inordinate amount of effort to sustain any changes he made to his appearance and it cost quite a bit of magic.

Harry had ridden the Black Lake in a boat with a Scottish kid he didn't remember the name of, Granger and the bumbling idiot also known as Neville Longbottom. The boy had barely stopped fidgeting and it was driving Harry insane. He was this close to pushing the fat lump in the Black Lake for his weakness but somehow had managed to control his temper. It didn't help that Granger kept rattling on about facts that she had read in Hogwarts: A History.

But even as used to controlling his emotions he was, he couldn't keep the look of awe from his face or his jaw dropping at the magnificent sight of the stunning castle, sat atop a hill, glistening with thousands of candles in the dark night, with its many towers giving it a fearsome look.

It was quite easy to see that it was made primarily as a fortress, and a defensible location, probably from an invading muggle force. It would be practically suicide to invade such a well-situated and defensible castle.

Half an hour later, he walked up with the rest of the first years, having separated from his compartment companions to the Entrance Hall where they were received by a stern looking witch in black robes and a pointy witch's hat, who Hagrid, introduced as Professor McGonagall.

The witch, who Harry remembered being stated on the letter as the Deputy Headmistress, introduced the house system and named the houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Apparently, the house will be like their families. Any triumphs will gain them house points and any rule breaking will lose them points. At t the end of the year, the house with the most points will receive the house cup.

Harry, inadvertently, had been relegated towards the back of the group, as people were eager to go forward while he took in the sights. It turns out it was a good thing as Potter and Draco traded some jibes back and forth with Weasley adding some of his opinions that nobody but Potter cared about.

Behind them were standing Tracey and Daphne and had they seen him, they would have instantly recognised him, putting his plan at risk. That when was Professor McGonagall returned from wherever she had gone off to and led them into the great hall.

Here, Harry was now better able to contain his awe, than at the lake. It was without a doubt the largest room or rather, hall he had ever seen. It seated what had to be hundreds of students, under the night sky. Hovering over them were hundreds of lit candles.

Of course, he too had read about the enchantment placed on the ceiling of the Great Hall by Rowena Ravenclaw, as Granger was busy telling a girl beside her who looked like she couldn't care less.

But more than the magnificence of the hall, was the feeling Harry got. It was overwhelming, a rush of something, a wave sweeping over him and away, engulfing him completely, filling him. With a start, he realised what it was. It was magic. But on a much grander scale than what he felt in Ollivander's shop. It also felt, old, ancient more like… more powerful, natural.

His eyes went over the staff table at front. Sitting in dead centre, on a golden throne like chair, was a wizard, who he recognised from the chocolate frog card, as Albus Dumbledore, with his long white beard and long white hair, in a shockingly magenta robe.

He mentally snorted at the thought that the leader of the light dressing as what muggles pictured Merlin as. To Harry, he looked like Gandalf in an outrageous robe. To his left was as diminutive Professor, with a shorter white beard, who Harry thought, resembled the goblins somewhat.

Beside him, however, was a sight he had not to see. Not only because it angered him, but it made confused. Of his own feelings on the matter. What in the hell was Lily Potter doing here? He quickly averted his eyes from her lest she sees him. Instead, he observed others.

He shifted his attention back to what McGonagall was saying. So, they had to sit under a hat to be sorted. With the first name, 'Abbot, Hannah' it began. She was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff, but how, he did not know.

What was going on? The next few students included Susan Bones to Hufflepuff; Lavender Brown to Gryffindor; Mandy Brocklehurst and Terry Boot to Ravenclaw and Millicent Bulstrode became the first Slytherin.

From the terrified looks on their faces; or the looks of contention or argument or confusion, Harry finally realised what was going on. Crap! Seven Hells! He would hate for the damn hat to rummage through his mind. Was there no way to prevent it. No! If this was the only way, then he would have to endure it.

This was merely a hurdle in his way. He just hoped that whatever the hat learnt; it would keep it to itself. It must have quite a few secrets accumulated over the centuries. Not to mention the dust and grime. When had the hat been cleaned last.

Focus! He mentally chided himself. The most important event in his life was happening and here he was wondering if the hat had been cleaned recently. Foolish idiot!

Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass joined Millicent in Slytherin soon. Was it just him or did Daphne look kind of annoyed? At what, he couldn't say. Maybe Potter had done something to annoy her. It certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

Megan Jones, Leanne, Ernie MacMillan, and Justin-Flinch Fletchley joined the badgers; Amanda, Michael Corner and Su Li the Ravens; Fay Dunbar, Kellah, Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnegan and Neville fat-bottom the lions.

Finally, the Ps arrived and a rather unfortunately, pug-faced girl called Pansy Parkinson joined the serpents. Then came the name he had been waiting for, with all the reactions he had been expecting. And he would deny it to whoever even implied that he had.

'Potter, Alexander!'

He even allowed himself the smirk at what followed, mentally clapping himself on the back for a scheme having worked.

Alexander knew his name would come up before his brothers just like his dad had told him, but it was still a surprise when it did, amidst the usual whispers he heard whenever he and his family went out in Diagon Alley.

Even Dumbledore had sat up straight for his sorting. And his mother looked to be on the edge of her seat. Of course! He was the Boy-Who-Lived. The defeater of You-Know-Who when he was only one.

'Did she say Alex Potter!'

'the Boy-Who-Lived?'

'I thought he was being trained by Dumbledore?'

He had no need to push past anyone as he was already standing in the front. He walked as confidently as he could manage, making sure he looked happy and calm as he turned around, giving everybody his smile once they could see him.

He even heard bets on what house he would be in and took a certain pride in the certainty with which many students said, 'He'll be a Gryffindor, of course!'

Some said Ravenclaw, but there was no way in hell that was happening. He was not a bookworm.

He would be lying if he wasn't nervous but he swallowed his nerves down as his dad's favourite Professor lowered the ancient hat on his head, before he heard the expected rough voice in his head.

'_Ahh… Tricky one… And no reaction to me like everyone else had. I see. So, you convinced your father to tell you of what happens at the sorting ceremony. To make yourself look brave in front of your peers? So very, very sly of you. Ah yes, I see everything, you know. No-one, save Salazar himself, would be able to hide secrets from me. So, very…. Slytherin….',_ the hat said.

'_NO! Don't you dare put me there! You can't!'_ Alexander argued almost instantly, unwittingly bringing up the most recent related conversation in his head.

'_Don't I dare! I can place where I please, boy!' _

'_NO! I just can't be in Slytherin… I just can't,'_ Alexander changed his tone to one of pleading instead, making the hat chuckle in amusement.

'_Oh? And why is that?'_ the hat mused, sounding somewhat amused at his reaction.

That he was more prepared for, _'Only evil witches and wizards come out from Slytherin. I'm Alex Potter. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, a symbol for the light. I want to be in Gryffindor. Like my parents and grandparents. With Ron! And my brother! Us Potters always get sorted in Gryffindor!'_

'_We shall see. But first, let's look in a bit more detail, shall we. You're very loyal but a no for Hufflepuff. There's too much hard work that would be required for you there. And you've certainly got the potential for it, but not drive for Ravenclaw. And you completely lack any form of subtlety, don't you? Rather like your parents, in that regard. In fact, you didn't even recognise what your brother did, did you?' _

What? Now he was confused. _'I went to look for him but me and Ron couldn't find him. I haven't met Harry yet!'_

He was getting annoyed at the hat's cryptic words. Alex and Rose had been told of their brother who didn't live with them, a few years ago when he had, by accident, found a photo of him as a baby, in the attic. He agreed with their decision of course. It was for his own good. He was a squib, for Merlin's sake!

Rose was more affected by that revelation and just didn't understand why he had to live with their muggle aunt and uncle. But she was a child and a girl at that.

The hat chuckled again, _'I said, what he did, not said. Although, you didn't notice that either…. Hmm… Quite tricky but I do agree. I believe you will need an education that only be received in…' _

Alex had a warm feeling in his chest rise up, at the imminent sorting into Gryffindor as the hat agreed with him, ready to rejoice. He was going to be a Gryffindor, like the one he his mum and dad always said he was. He was going to be in the house of his parents and grandparents; the house of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive since Merlin. The house of heroes.

The warm feeling, however, turned into an ice-cold steel ball, and dropped into his stomach as he could barely comprehend what the hat just screamed.

'SLYTHERIN!'

For the first time since Dudley had fallen into the python cage in London Zoo, Harry felt tempted to laugh. Out loud. Rolling on the floor laughing.

Alexander's face, having instantly changed from glee to complete, abject horror as the hat screamed his house, was one he would remember for the rest of his life. But for the sake of not giving the game away, he just smirked at the complete and utter silence that greeted the hat's declaration.

Professor McGonagall was still looking at the hat that still sat on his head as if it had just asked for Alexander's kidneys. The headmaster was looking at Alex with narrowed, and should he say, concerned eyes. Lily Potter however was just plain worried for her son. That much was obvious from her face.

Understandably, all teachers were surprised, but the most was perhaps, the black robed, greasy haired man sitting on the far right. His face was one of complete shock, his eyes wide and fixed onto the boy on the stool, as if wishing for the ground to open up and swallow Alexander whole.

Harry couldn't say the thought didn't amuse him greatly. The whispers returned ever harsher than before when Potter walked up to the stool.

Now that according to his design, Potter had been sorted into Slytherin, breaking the much boring tradition of Potters always being in Gryffindor, it wouldn't cause much of a scene if, by chance, Harry couldn't get himself sorted into Gryffindor.

If, however, he is sorted into Gryffindor then Alexander loses a considerable amount of goodwill, gains a drastic amount of suspicion, and Harry gains the good impression of three quarters of the school.

Even if wasn't sorted into Gryffindor like he had planning, and Merlin forbid lands himself in Slytherin, he wouldn't too bad off, now that Alexander had already had his reputation 'damaged' and cast into suspicion. They would probably just assume that the hat made a mistake. All in all, not a bad first impression.

Much better than knocking a blonde girl to the floor and spilling her drink on her. But before he could savour the moment further, there was a loud yell that brought his attention to the stool. Professor McGonagall had just tried to take the hat from Potter.

'NO!' Alexander shouted, standing up, scandalised, 'This is wrong! Do it again'

'Mr. Potter,' McGonagall lips were thinning, 'You have been sorted. Now go and sit.'

'Like hell I'm sitting with the slimy Slytherins!' Alexander actually pulled the hat out of McGonagall's reach as she tried to take it from him… again. 'I should be in Gryffindor. You know it. It even agreed with me!', he waved the ancient headgear in his hand.

'It must have had a reason,' McGonagall looked close to losing her cool. 'I won't tell you again, Mr. Potter.'

'NO! I refuse,' the brat was throwing a tantrum. 'I'm not a mini death…!'

He wasn't allowed to finish as Lily Potter apparently had had enough of her son making a fool of himself and her. 'Alexander Lilian Potter! Sit down right now or I will ask Minerva to put you in detention for the rest of the term!', she shouted, standing up from her place on the staff table.

Harry could see people sniggering at his full name. Mostly, Slytherins. It seems, as much as he hated his own generically muggle name, his brother had gotten the short end of the stick when it came to middle names. He really didn't envy him that.

Begrudgingly, Potter had back the hat and trudged his feet slowly towards the Slytherin table. Harry could see people still half expected him to bolt before he reached it in his glacial pace.

McGonagall decided, however, not to wait for him to sit down, as he was being intentionally slow and called out the next name. 'Potter, Hadrian!'

Harry walked up from the back, holding his head high, chest out but not like a peacock and kept his emotions off his face. Not that he wasn't experiencing any. In fact, he was rather nervous.

'What? Another Potter?'

'Is he related?'

'The Potters have two sons?'

'Maybe a cousin?'

'Look at him, he looks exactly like James Potter'

Harry grit his teeth at the more or less correct statement. He had noticed on the train station that he possessed more than a passing familiarity with the older Potter and even to Alexander. He hated his looks more for it.

As he ignored the whispers and sat down on the stool, he had prepared the shields for the mental attack coming when he didn't even sense it, _'Ahh… Impressive… quite impressive for someone your age. I dare say you are on the right path, boy!'_

Harry assumed it was talking about occlumency. _'I would hardly call it impressive. I didn't even feel an intrusion from you.'_

'_No, but then again, I'm ancient and the only one who could compare against my mind arts is Salazar himself,'_ the hat answered. _'Well, let's see then. Where to put you.'_

It was asking him? That was great, he thought. _'Gryffindor',_ he replied, without hesitation.

'_Ah. Yes, your little scheme. So, very Slytherin of you…. My, my, what an innate you have. So very different you are. I do believe you're the first of them in centuries…' _

He hadn't been sat for more than thirty seconds and already he hated the cryptic hat. _'What do you mean? I have the same blood as Alexander so he must have the same innate talents….'_

'_Not everything is what it seems, young wizard,' the hat replied. 'What I mean, is what you will have to find out for yourself. And no, you don't belong in Gryffindor. You are brave yes, but not foolish. You are calculating and not self-sacrificing. You have no real concept of loyalty because you've never experienced it so no to Hufflepuff even though you are a terribly hard worker. No, there's only one place you can go.' _

'SLYTHERIN!'

Harry had been rather resigned to this ever since he had hatched his scheme of getting Alexander into Slytherin. And so, he wasn't at all surprised when he handed the hat back to an astonished Professor McGonagall and stood as confidently as he could.

Harry took a brief moment to scan the faces of the students in the hall. Of course, they were all stunned that a Potter, a second Potter in a row had been sorted into Slytherin. If only he knew what was going on in their heads. Sadly, he wasn't a legilimens and had no way of learning the skill.

He didn't turn his attention to the staff table, lest it appear that he was nervous and didn't want to be in Slytherin. Even though he didn't want to be in Slytherin. But he would not allow the Slytherins, or the rest of the school to think him scared.

Harry made sure to stand up straight up and tall, head level and turned towards the table under green and silver banner and made his way towards them, ignoring the silence and the glares being levelled at him already, especially from red and gold table.

The non-judgemental, noble lions were judging him already. How unsurprising. Slowly, the silence abated into whispers and then one person from the Slytherin table stood up and clapped, the rest falling suit until the level of applause reached the level it had for other students. All bar Alexander.

Due to his outburst after his sorting, and subsequent scolding at the hands of both his mother and Professor McGonagall, a thoroughly embarrassed and reddened Alexander had taken his seat, reluctantly, amongst the serpents, without a single person to clap for him.

Of course, even if they had remembered to, they wouldn't have after he so thoroughly insulted the house. He doubted Alexander was in for a good welcome.

He ignored the death glare of Alexander and the piercing gaze of Daphne Greengrass as he took his seat beside Pansy Parkinson.

'I'm Pansy Parkinson,' she said to him, nose upturned and haughty, one arm linked with Draco's. She also had a sneer on her pug-face, one matching her boyfriend's. But she did offer her hand to him.

He was well aware that someone had been called to the sorting but wasn't paying attention to it. Having already sat down, it was a tad difficult to bow, but he did do it, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips against her knuckles. 'Hadrian Potter, Ms. Parkinson. Pleasure to meet you.'

In truth, he had done nothing different to how he had greeted Tracey but so why was Tracey looking at him like she was mad at him. 'Tracey,' he inclined his head.

Daphne immediately narrowed her eyes, 'It seems you have a habit of lying, Potter.'

By now, the others were aware of the whispered introduction at the top of the table, where Alexander sat at the very end, if afraid the others would poison him just by being near to him. How very childish.

Parvati Patil had just been sorted into Gryffindor and her twin Padma looked extremely let down by the fact.

'Not at all, Ms. Greengrass,' he replied smoothly. He wondered where this smoothness was coming from. He was not at all smooth when it came to talking to others, especially girls. He supposed he should be more grateful to Mrs. Malfoy for buying him those books. 'Hadrian is my given name, and Evans is Lily Potter's maiden name.'

That was when Alexander's eyes widened comically. He looked from a smirking Harry to a glaring Daphne and joined the points together.

'You!' he seethed, pointing at Harry. 'You tricked me!' Alexander yelled, going red.

The only response he got from Harry was a raised eyebrow. He was about to reply when came the retort from McGonagall, 'Potter! Quiet!'

'Weasley, Ronald,' McGonagall called out. Harry turned his attention back to the sorting. Will the second part of his plan work. It was rather irrelevant, to be honest.

His main goal had been to hurt Alexander's reputation and his hero status. Weasley had just been a bonus. So, when the hat called out Gryffindor, he wasn't overly disappointed.

'Guess you'll have to buy him a new wand now, Harry,' said Tracey, smirking as a grinning Weasley made his way to the Gryffindor

'What do you mean?' asked Pansy, turning back to them seeing as there was a lull in the next sorting.

'Harry here bet Weasley that he would buy him a new wand if he were sorted into Gryffindor,' Tracey added so helpfully, before Harry could make up an answer. Maybe she was taking revenge of him fooling her on the train.

Pansy scoffed, 'Of course, Weasel can't even afford to buy a wand!'

Harry merely smirked. That had been the sort of response he was expecting from her. He could see Alexander was going to reply something but Draco cut him off, 'Didn't you donate some charity to your girlfriend, Potter?'

That resulted in quite a bit of snickering from the other Slytherins who were listening in and even a few nearby Hufflepuffs.

'No, Draco. They were too busy debating the odds of Chudley Cannons winning the league,' Harry said, only get a laugh from Draco and others, and a hard glare from McGonagall.

'The day that happens is the day I eat the sorting hat,' Harry turned to look at the boy who just been sorted, coming to sit beside him. 'Blaise Zabini,' he introduced himself.

'Very funny, Zabini,' Pansy snorted, shaking her head. 'Why did you make the fools bet anyway?'

'It wasn't too much of a risk. I never said when I'd be buying that wand.' Harry shrugged, telling the truth and then going silent as the headmaster standing up to say a few words.

'Before we begin, I have a few words to say. And these are: Nitwit, Oddment, Blubber, Tweak!' he clapped his hands and instantly, all five tables were filled with more kinds of food than Harry had ever seen in his life.

'Is he – a bit…' Harry didn't know what word to use. 'Mad?'

'Mad, yes. Completely nutters,' Draco nodded. 'Oh, by the way, I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.'

'Hadrian Potter,' he replied, shaking hands with the blonde-haired boy and then taking a steak and some sweet potato chips, and filling his cup with orange juice.

'Honestly, we didn't expect to see you here,' said Zabini, eyeing him and Alexander curiously. He hadn't included Alexander in it though, who was busy sulking, looking like he might be sick sitting next to Theodore Nott. Nott in turn was thoroughly ignoring the boy next to him.

'Neither did I,' Harry replied, resisting a grimace at the awful taste of the juice which turned out to be pumpkin. 'The hat contemplated Ravenclaw for a while but put me here.'

'And your brother?' Pansy asked, looking towards the gloomy boy who was busy glaring at his kidney pie, while stabbing it with a fork.

Alexander whipped his head around, 'He tricked me! Otherwise I'd never be in this stinking house!'

'And how did I do that?' Harry asked, curious as to what he thought Harry had done. Of course, Harry had tricked him but Alexander hadn't realised until Harry talked to Daphne earlier.

'You… You!' Alexander stuttered, 'I dunno. You just did!'

'Hmm,' a little disappointed, Harry turned back to his dinner. When there was a lull in the conversation, Pansy took it upon herself to introduce Harry to Millicent Bulstrode, a burly looking girl who looked like Crabbe in a wig that was a lighter, almost lifeless shade of brown than Tracey's.

Pansy whispered to him that she wanted to be a beater on the Quidditch team and that it just wasn't proper. Millicent glare furiously at both of them at what she thought was an insult.

Pretending to seem oblivious, he asked, 'What's wrong with that?'

Disgusted for a few seconds at even contemplating such a scandalous act, Pansy turned at introduced Morag McDougal, who seemed almost too shy to speak and was trying to look as small as possible when Pansy addressed her.

She only sent a shy smile towards as he nodded to her and then observed the other tables. Slytherins were eating with the proper etiquette as befits their station while enjoying a good quiet conversation as they ate. All except Potter who was busy butchering his roast pork.

The Ravenclaws at the other end were similarly mannered to Slytherins and Harry understood why it was called the sister house to Slytherin. They too were keeping themselves proper, though not as much as some Slytherins.

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were a different matter entirely. Their meal was livelier and conversation flowed more easily. In Harry's opinion, they knew what a feast was and were enjoying it. For a moment, he felt a pang of jealousy at their camaraderie before he squashed it down.

Unfortunately, in his people watching, his gaze caught onto Ronald Weasley, who sat opposite the proper Hermione Granger, had a piece of chicken in each hand, grease dripping, as he took a bite from each.

'Disgusting, isn't it?' he turned to Draco who said it, with an upset look that probably matched his.

'Sorry?' he asked, confused. Was the boy calling him disgusting?

'The way Weasley's eating. Like he's trying to force an entire chicken down his gullet at once,' Draco motioned with his head.

'Yes, yes, it is,' Harry replied, as the repulsive image flashed through his head, and he fought down the urge to throw up at the atrocious manners. He saw several girls turn to see where Weasley sat and quickly agreed that it was rather disgusting.

'Shut up!' they turned to see Alexander looking at them with wide eyes. 'Shut up about Ron!'

'Ooh Potter. What are you going to do? Throw a tantrum,' Pansy replied as several people snickered at him.

Harry felt a little guilty but it didn't matter. His plan was working better than he expected. But then he felt eyes on him and turned to the staff table. The black-haired man was glaring at Harry, straight.

That can't be good, he thought.

And just like that, dinner was over, the food vanished and Dumbledore stood up to make a speech. 'Now that we have all feasted, I have a few start-of-term notices to announce. Firstly, I would like you all to join me in welcoming back Professor Quirinus Quirrell who has just returned from his sabbatical and would be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts,' he motioned towards a man in a purple turban, who stood up shakily.

That, alone cemented Harry's opinion that the man was useless to teach such an important subject.

'Secondly, please welcome Professor Lily Potter, who would be teaching Charms and Muggle Studies, part time.'

Harry cursed mentally. How could he have such bad luck. But he clapped politely with the rest of them. Alexander too had a look of horror on his face. Clearly, it had come as a news to him too.

But didn't they have a young daughter? If James Potter was an Auror and Lily Potter was teaching here, what about the girl.

What does he care? He pushed the thought out of his head as the headmaster explained to them about forbidden items and not to go into the forbidden forest.

'Lastly… the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to all those who do not wish to die a most painful death,' he said gravely, as he looked over all students. Harry thought that his gaze remained on Alexander a few seconds longer but maybe he was mistaken.

Why would the headmaster say? In a school full of children taught be inquisitive, it was almost like an invitation. Doesn't matter. He wasn't here to think about forbidden corridors and odd headmasters, he was here to learn magic.

And soon, they were dismissed and Harry rose along with the rest of the house to be led to their common rooms. He could see several older students hesitating, looking at him and Alexander and then at the greasy black-haired man, who Pansy had explained was Severus Snape, their Head of House and Potion's Master.

Snape retracted his previous statement. His personal hell wasn't teaching two Potters Potions. No, now it seemed that fate or destiny or gods or whatever it was controlling everything, had some sort of grudge against him.

It had to be. Why else would his life take such a nasty turn and he be saddled with not one, but two arrogant Potters in _his _house. In Slytherin! It was hard to even imagine. He had been all content to think that Minerva would be dealing with those two while he only would dole out copious punishments.

How in the name of Merlin did this even happen! He was struck silent when Alexander Potter, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, symbol of the light, James Potter's pride and joy and whatnot ended up in house.

It was clear that he would be a huge pain to handle, by the temper tantrum he threw right there, in front of everybody when things didn't go his way. And then he had the gall to insult Slytherin! Oh, how he would rue the day. If his upper year Slytherins didn't exact revenge for this, Severus most certainly would.

It was when the other Potter, the one no one had even given a thought about, was also sorted into house and he walked to the green and silver table as if he had belonged there all along, things really went pear shaped.

He had been well aware that the second Potter, was being raised by that god-awful harridan Petunia. Even though it had surprised Severus that Lily could even do that to her child. Of course, he hadn't spoken up about it, it wasn't his place and he and Lily weren't what they used to be.

But when Alexander had interrupted the sorting, yet again, making Severus wish he was able to pour boil causing potion on him, and yelled at his brother for having tricked him, did things start to make sense to Severus.

The other Potter had somehow done something to either Alexander or the hat that resulted in this most shocking sorting. To what end, he did not know. Neither did he know how he did it. But Severus would find out. And then he would dole out the proper punishment.

Of course, it all made sense. When Alexander was sorted, the whole hall was shocked at the idea of the boy-who-lived being a snake. All, except a smirking Hadrian Potter, who was the only one who looked remotely amused by that, as if he was fighting a grin.

If he hadn't done that for his own amusement, Severus thought with vehemence, Slytherin wouldn't have been made a fool of, by his foolish brother. Figures that both Potters hadn't been in his house for more than ten minutes and already they were causing him headaches.

It was like they were sent by James to specifically annoy him. But if there was one thing, he was certain of, it was that James Potter would never want his sons, let alone his heir, be sorted into Slytherin even if to annoy him, which seemed to be his only goal in life when they were at school.

He could almost see the wheels turning in the headmaster's mind as to what the consequences of this would be and how he would turn it to his advantage.

Dumbledore, in his infinite patience and understanding, wouldn't let it matter to him in the slightest, at least when it came to Hadrian Potter. He was sure Filius would be the same. But would Pamona? He wasn't certain. Would she hold it against him?

He could see both her and Lily looking concernedly at both Potter boys on the table, sitting as far away from each other as was possible under the circumstances. It would have been amusing to him had the situation not been so unexpected.

What about Minerva. She had been visibly shocked at both sorting, more so on Alexander's, who she had met more than once over the years. Minerva had never been one to conceal her emotions. She was a Gryffindor through and through, wearing her heart on her sleeves. Just like her favourite students, James and Lily Potters.

Would she be herself, given that both boys of her favourite students were in his house and not hers like she had expected, or would be stricter than usual. Unfair even?

He could also see that the only other ex-Slytherin Professor Sinistra think. She maintained a neutrality when teaching but these were two boys, who everyone including him, would say were born to be Gryffindors.

And they were only in his house because one of them was meddlesome fool who will soon be taught a lesson. As soon as Severus figured out how he did it. Did he bribe the hat? No. What could the hat possibly want from a child.

He could also see that one of his own, Daphne Greengrass, was glaring, rather heatedly at Hadrian Potter. That only cemented his belief that the troublesome boy had done something. How he angered her, it did not matter. For he was sure, she was capable of extracting her own revenge.

As dinner ends, he receives the ever-expected order from the headmaster to present the two Potters to his office. He would be damned if he would show the Potters the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Although he had no doubt that James Potter had already told them. Just in case he hadn't, Severus would not be helping them prank his own house. Already this was like a bad prank.

He made his way to the first years as each house stood to leave the great hall, as he adapted to this most unexpected circumstance, again cursing the Potters.

'Potters,' he made his presence loom over the first years, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw a few Hufflepuffs pale and shrink away. 'You two will follow me to the headmaster's office. Now.'

Then turning to the sixth-year prefects he ordered, 'It seems you two will have to give the introduction with Professor Sinistra. Orientation will be tomorrow morning at nine am in the common room,' he ordered, as his ever-obedient snakes nodded and led the house away.

It seemed Hadrian underestimated the amount of trouble he was in, for he was standing quite contently. What arrogance! It would out of them soon enough!

The other one, was seemingly, divided at who to glare at, but seeing as other teachers and his mother were there, he decided to glare at his brother like he had doing frequently doing dinner.

'Let's go,' he ordered them and didn't need to make sure that they were following for he knew they would, if they knew what was good for them. The walk was spent in silence, he thanked the gods for this small reprieve.

Merlin knows there would be more than raised voices once they got to office. And he was quite right. He saw the other Potter's eyes narrow at the sight of the Griffin statue guarding the staircase to the headmaster's office.

'Sugar quills', he gave the password, and instantly, the stone statue revolved and revealed stairs going up.

A number of things were going in Harry's head. Not the least of which was the prominent question as to what the hell was going on.

He had, understandably, assumed that they would be sorted, have dinner and be sent to their dormitories, to prepare for their first day at school tomorrow. He cursed himself for his naivete. Why did he assume that his parents would want to wait to be reacquainted with the son they abandoned? Especially, since he was sorted into Slytherin, against their expectations and even wished.

Those were his primary thoughts as he crossed the blatant show of favouritism by the Griffin statue and onto the stairs leading to an office. Professor Snape knocked once on the door. 'Come in, Severus,' came the answer from inside.

As soon as he entered the office, he was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't visited any teacher's offices in his life, well except for the headmistress at primary school when Dudley blamed him for something or other, but he thought the headmaster's office was perhaps the most interesting.

It was a large, beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises, which he presumed were coming from the little trinkets, spinning and spitting steam on the shelves, and silver instruments that sat on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting puffs of smoke. There was also an enormous, claw footed desk, which he presumed was the headmasters.

Another show of favouritism towards his old house. But why were there so many people in here.

Also present was Professor McGonagall who was holding in her hands, the sorting hat. Harry's mind was whirring but he forced himself not to show any of it. It would not do to show any weakness. Especially not now.

'Dad, mum!' Alexander strode forward to stand next to them. 'Dad, I told the hat not to but…'

'I know, son. I know,' James Potter tried to console his son who was obviously disturbed at being sorted into the house he hated.

His wife, however wasn't looking at Alexander, but at her other son. 'Harry…'

He resisted the flinch that came upon him. The way she called his name was filled with longing, or perhaps regret.

He narrowed his eyes at the familiar way she called him, as if she hadn't abandoned him to her hateful bitch of a sister. 'Professor Potter,' he replied with a nod of his head.

He didn't see her flinch at his formal address as he looked around the office. But before he could look at the headmaster, something drew his attention. Or rather, something flew straight to him.

It was perhaps the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It had crimson feathers on its body and a long golden tail, as long as a peacock's. It was roughly the size of a swan, and its claws were golden as he noticed when it landed on his shoulder.

A phoenix, he realised. He had read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. But why was it coming to him and not going to the saviour boy. Curious.

'Ah. Most curious,' he turned to see the headmaster looking at him with an amused expression. 'Harry, this is Fawkes, my familiar. He normally doesn't allow people to touch him but it seems you are an exception…'

Harry nodded as he stroked its plumes, 'Why am I here, headmaster?'

Perhaps he could have been more subtle but he couldn't find it in himself to be calm. Not right now when he is faced with the parents that abandoned him and he was barely keeping his anger contained. The soothing presence of the phoenix also helped.

If Dumbledore was taken aback by his directness like the others in the room were, he didn't show it. 'Well, I thought you would like to meet your parents.'

It was clear this wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. Which made him wonder why bother with the grandfather façade at all. Gregorovitch had told him about Albus Dumbledore's abilities as a legilimens. As it was, he had nothing to hide and so wasn't afraid to look at him in the eyes.

Almost instantly, he felt the familiar brush of magic inside his head. He averted his eyes to his parents, 'Auror Potter,' he said with a nod.

James Potter was quite clearly taken aback by the extreme formality his son was showing. His son, who looked almost exactly like him, save the face was a tad thinner than the more-rounded face of his or Alex's. Harry also had Lily's eyes. And Rose's. His son, who was a Slytherin, he thought with vehemence.

'Harry…,' Lily Potter started, but hesitated as her son turned to her with those emerald eyes. She couldn't read his face but it was clear he was angry. His fists were clenched, the visible one anyway, and his jaw was tightened. She had always been good at noticing the details, unlike her husband. 'We thought we might explain what happened that night and why…', she stopped as her son shook his head.

'There's no need,' Harry replied. He wasn't sure how he would contain his temper when they start making excuses for their abandonment. He didn't want to listen anyway. So, he saved them the trouble of making excuses.

'No, Harry you need to understand….'

'Alexander's already explained,' Harry was surprised to see the shocked look on the boy's face. Did he not remember? He had clearly explained when talking about his family on the train.

Wait… why was he shaking his head? Was he denying saying it? No matter. He would tell them that he did not care about them.

'Harry, I need to explain why…,' Lily didn't know what Alex had told Harry but she would have to find out later. Harry knew virtually nothing of the wizarding world, even less than her than when she came to Hogwarts and she was a muggleborn. But she had known about being a witch since she was eight, courtesy of the surly man standing in the shadows, clad in his black cloak, as always.

Harry meanwhile, was getting desperate. Why was this incessant woman insisting on rehashing out old wounds that he had buried? He tried a more desperate strategy. One that his uncle employed. He insulted her.

'Explain why you cursed me?' he said, noticing the confusion on her and James' faces as they looked from him to Alex. Good. They were confused. This was going better than he hoped.

'We didn't curse you!' James said, abashed at such a notion, and looked from his son to Albus, looking for help from his mentor.

'No? Then what do you call giving me a decidedly muggle name if not a curse?' Harry was quite pleased at the shocked looks on his parents' faces as they turned from shock to horror to anger.

As it was, he didn't see the narrowing of the headmaster's eyes or those of Professor McGonagall and Snape, at his anti-muggle comment.

James flinched. He was seething. This boy, this Slytherin, was already becoming a blood purist. He was acutely aware that the comment was so very like what his own mother said when he told her of his boy's name.

But his mother had been a Slytherin too. And right now, the last part was more important. He turned to Albus, 'Albus! We need to fix this! Already he's talking like a slimy Slytherin!'

'My boy. I agree. Harry, there's nothing with muggles,' the headmaster answered in his grandfather tone but his eyes weren't twinkling. It showed that he himself thought this as quite a mess.

'No son of mine will be a stinking Slytherin!' he growled, glaring at the hat. 'The hat clearly made a mistake with both of them.'

'I do not make mistakes,' was the hat's clear answer. 'And I will not resort them.'

'James, it's fine. It's not that bad,' Lily tried to placate her husband who was getting more and more worked up. 'Harry doesn't know any better and we can teach him about the wizarding world, now that he's back.' She had been quite shocked at his statement. He hadn't outright said what he thought about muggles but he didn't need to. It was quite clear.

Harry's eyes narrowed at those words. He didn't know any better?! Whose fault was that then? No, he would make it his life's mission to know better and he would show this woman.

'NO! Mum, I can't be in Slytherin!' Alexander said with a pout. 'I'm a Potter! I'm the Boy-Who-Lived!'

'Exactly Lily,' James argued back, siding with his son. 'It's clear something went wrong!'

'He tricked me!' Alex pointed at Harry who turned his head from the phoenix to the boy who was, yet again, throwing a temper tantrum and regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

'How did I do that, Alexander Lilian Potter,' Harry may have emphasised the middle name a little too much as Alex coloured almost immediately.

'You made me think about Slytherin!' he seethed. 'And the hat agreed with you.'

Harry resisted the urge to snort at the stupid answer. What he had done was more than that, but that was the gist of it. Now, to deny it. 'If thinking about other houses was all it took to fool the hat, then countless students would have been sorted into the wrong houses over the centuries.'

'I agree with Potter,' came the drawl from behind him. 'As much as I would hate to have both your spawn in my house, the hat is not wrong.'

Snape was enjoying this immensely. The comment from the other Potter about muggles was concerning but nothing that was new in Slytherin. That and watching James Potter squirm was a delight on its own.

The fact that his Head of House would even side with him clearly surprised everyone. That merited some thought, to Harry. Being at odds with him couldn't be good.

'It is clear that Alexander belongs in Gryffindor, Severus,' the headmaster said and then to Harry, 'Harry, surely you would prefer to be in Gryffindor with your brother and his friends. It was, after all, your parents' house.'

Harry rolled his eyes. Why did he want him in Gryffindor anyway? To make the Potters look like the epitome of light? To have one son in Slytherin clearly harmed that.

He could see by the slight narrowing of the headmaster's eyes that he had read his thoughts. His plan was going all wrong. Well, not all wrong. Alexander's reputation had taken quite a dump when he was sorted into Slytherin. That would stay even if the headmaster were to put him in Gryffindor against the wishes of the sorting hat.

That, Harry admitted, he had not foreseen as happening. 'No, thank you. I am quite content with the hat's decision.'

James Potter bristled at this and even Lily Potter looked slightly put off. 'No. Either you will be in Gryffindor or we will pull you out of Hogwarts immediately!' This was getting bad quickly. Not only was his not a squib as he had thought, and that posed problems on its own, but now both of them were in Slytherin.

Alex, he could manage to get into Gryffindor because, after all, they couldn't have the boy-who-lived being a slimy snake. But his other son was already spouting off James' mother's beliefs despite never having met her.

'What?' it was McGonagall who yelled this. 'You can't blackmail your son like that James Potter! Your mother would be ashamed!'

Lily looked horrified at what he had said. 'No, Minerva. He is not serious!', she gave her husband a warning look that promised pain.

James had the decency to flush at her rebuke but still looked determinedly at Harry.

Harry glared at the audacity of the man. He would dare take away his heritage. Or was he bluffing? No. The idiot, Gryffindor bully didn't seem to have enough brains for that. Time for his own bluff.

He raised his head, looked James in the eye and said, 'Okay.'

James, Lily, Dumbledore and Minerva all looked relieved when he said that but that relief soon turned upside down when he continued.

'Pull me out. I'm sure I can get a place at Beauxbatons, or even Durmstrang, given that I already got a letter from them.'

Their necks snapped towards him as he mentioned the school known for teaching the Dark Arts. And he wasn't even lying when he talked about the letter.

'Harry. No need to be so hasty,' Lily tried to placate her son to calm him down but the trouble was, unlike James, Harry was perfectly calm. She could already tell that unlike both James and Alex, she would need a completely different approach to dealing with Harry. 'James sometimes talks without thinking properly…'

'Why did you get a letter from a school of Dark wizards!' James demanded. 'It's against international law to…'

'That's for me to know and you to find out,' Harry replied, smiling up at his 'family'. 'It's settled, then…'  
The permission to leave went unasked but was loud and clear.

Dumbledore sighed and nodded. With only a curt nod, Harry turned and walked right out the door, without bothering to acknowledge the others in the room. He was vaguely aware being trailed by his head of house.

They walked in silence. With Harry wondering of the many revelations of this surprising meeting: the unforeseen complication in his plan; Potters clearly against him being in Slytherin and even going so far as to threaten him into Gryffindor; and the fact that Alexander didn't remember talking about Harry Potter on the train. Did that have something to do with the innate talent the hat talked about.

After all, if it was innate, then it should be in all of James and Lily Potter's children for they share the same blood.

'Turn left,' Snape ordered from behind him and he was vaguely aware of complying. And before he knew it, they ended up on a dead end of the wall in a corridor, in the dungeons. Harry cursed his absentmindedness. He had missed the way to the common room, he was so engrossed in his thoughts.

'Aconite,' Snape said, and a section of the wall jutted out and slid aside, revealing the common room.

'Password changes every week and is pinned on the noticeboard. It is not to be told to anyone outside of the house.'

Harry nodded as they crossed the threshold into a room, with a greenish hue. It was a long, low, underground room, with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps hung on chains. A fire crackling on the other side, in an elaborately carved hearth and several Slytherins were silhouetted on couches near the fireplace.

There were other numerous, low backed, black and green button-tufted leather sofas; skulls and dark wooden cupboards. He could see three large bookcases on the right hand a little further away from a large, multi-seat wooden table, for studying presumably.

As soon as they entered, Harry saw the look of apprehension, and not to mention, the suspicion on the faces of the Slytherins. Great. He was already a suspect in his house and he hadn't been here for more than a minute.

He supposed that was expected, when he hadn't said anything at McGonagall seating him at the Gryffindor table at dinner. But then again, he had been expecting to be sorted there anyway. Now, he was thankful he wasn't.

'Your room is on the right, over there,' Snape said pointed to a spiral staircase going down. There was an identical staircase on the left, which Harry presumed led to the girl's dormitories. 'Be here tomorrow at nine o'clock sharp for orientation. Don't… be … late!'

Harry had the unmistakable threat of punishment and nodded to his head of house, anxious to get to his room and retire for the night. Not just because he was tired, but because he could definitely sense some threat from the older Slytherins in the common room.

It hadn't felt like it but he had been in the headmaster's office for an hour. He was slightly disappointed that he didn't have a room to his own but then again, a four-poster bed with comfortable blankets and a good mattress was much more than a thin sheet in the cupboard under the stairs. It seemed that he was sharing the dormitory with Theodore and Zabini.

The others he presumed were in a different room. His trunk was already present and as he went up to it to get his sleeping clothes out, he could already sense Sookie's magic on it.

So, she had taken precaution and warded it herself. Not for the first time, was he thankful of her forethought. He really didn't want his books, unorthodox as they were, getting into the hands of potential threats.

'_HARRY!', a woman gave a gut-wrenching scream as she fell._

'_AVADA KEDAVRA!'. A flash of green light and blinding pain. _

Harry awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, like always. For as long as he could remember, he had the same dream. Of a woman dying. Call out his name.

He fumbled for his glasses, which he felt on the bed-side table. His breathing calmed down just as the world came into view and there was green light in sight. The curtains were drawn but he could see that it was still dark outside.

It was only six. Plenty of time to go out for a run and return in time for the meeting at nine. Taking only his wand, and dressed in a training t-shirt and shorts, running boots, he made his way out of the dormitory and common room and into the damp air of the dungeons.

It took him a while to figure out the way to the Entrance Hall, given that he hadn't been paying attention earlier. But once he figured out the corridors adorned with snakes were leading him out, it was fairly easy.

The morning air was crisp, fresh and cold. Dawn was just breaking, he could see the morning orange light peeking over the mountains surrounding them, giving the castle and the rolling hills an orange hue.

In short, this was the most peaceful he had been for the last ten years of his life. He decided to run along the shore of the great lake, from where the castle was still visible. It must have been a mile or more in diameter, he thought.

A few jogs warmup and then a few sprints, he was thoroughly awake. Passing by the great oak tree on the edge of the lake, he saw there was a little island, with a single tree on it. But what drew his attention was not the island, or the number of trees but the colouring of it. Unlike all others, this one was white.

It looked beautiful in the morning glow. Harry had always liked sitting under trees or climbing them in the park. They were the only space he was safe from Dudley's gang. Dudley was too fat to even attempt climbing and the others were too scared.

Too bad he couldn't get to the island without getting wet. He would need a boat. Unless there was some magic to walk on water. Moses had done it, so maybe Harry could too. Was Moses a wizard then? He had separated the Red Sea with his staff. So maybe, he was one. Just one that used a staff instead of a wand. Like Gandalf.

'Tempus,' he waved his wand but nothing happened. Frowning, he wondered what the prefects had done yesterday. It had worked for them. 'Tempus!' Again, nothing happened. What was he doing wrong?

'Ah. Intent,' he remembered from the journal. He tried again, multiple times, feeding the wand his intent to know the time. After what seemed like the tenth or maybe, the twentieth time, he numbers finally shot out of his wand, reassembling themselves into: 7:10.

A feeling of completion filled him, starting as a warm feeling in his stomach and rising to his chest. This was his first ever, bit of magic done with a wand. Granted, he didn't have a feeling of familiarity with it, but maybe it was just a matter of time. It had chosen him after all. There must be a reason why.

Putting his wand back inside his pocket, Harry turned towards the path leading up to the school. Granted, it would be more difficult running up the hill than walking down it, but it would be worth it in the end.

London's parks were nothing compared to this serene beauty surrounding him. He shot off, much slower than when he started but he had been running for an hour. For a previously starved eleven-year-old, who was just a month into his recovery, that was quite the feat.

Twenty minutes later, he had appeared back into his dormitory, getting various odd looks from people who were up and about the common room and those he had crossed in the entrance hall.

It might have something to do with the fact that he was drenched in sweat from head to toe, his raven hair, normally messy, was sticking his forehead and scalp, and his clothes sticking to his body.

His roommates were just getting up. Theodore grumbled something from the bed as he opened the door. Wincing at the noise, he thought with a little guilt, he could have been a little quieter. Sookie had already put his clothes on his bed.

Harry took them and made his way to the other end, where presumably, the toilets were located. The floor was charcoal grey and curiously, felt a little warm under his bare feet. A warming charm, maybe?

On the other side were three, rather spacious, shower cubicles, with frosted glass doors to make it impossible to see to the other side. Inside, everything was made of white marble, the taps and showers though, were silver.

On the left side of the rather spacious bathroom was a wooden cubicle, equipped with hangers, benches, and full-length mirror, where one could change with privacy. Harry wouldn't be needing it as he had no intention of possibly getting his uniform wet when he didn't know drying charms. Instead, he would use the three wooden cubicles which were meant for changing only.

He didn't explore any further and got to showering, determined to be done with getting ready before everyone else started using the facilities for the morning.

Half an hour later, completely refreshed and cleansed of sweat and grime, he exited the bathroom and made his way to the dormitory. The water had been just the right temperature, despite him not turning the temperature knob.

Harry however, didn't use the bodywash provided by the bathroom. Instead he used the rather expensive shampoo and bodywash he had bought from the body shop in Carkitt Market.

The lady had been quite helpful and very happy at equipping him with all the accessories he could possibly need and some he didn't even need nor did he know what they were, with a promise to send another batch with owl should he need it.

A bleary looking Theodore almost knocked into him as he was entering the toilets and he was exiting. 'You're up early,' he said, his voice a little hoarse, clutching a basket with all his toiletries in it.

That, too Harry, looked like a good idea. He would invest in one, soon. 'Early riser,' Harry replied, making his way to the dorm.

It looked like Blaise was already in the showers as he wasn't in his bed. Harry had deliberately not worn his best robes yesterday, but today was going to be different.

There was a green and silver tie on the edge of his bed, his Slytherin over-robes hanging from his dresser door, his boots by the bed. Mentally thanking Sookie yet again, he put them on, determined not to be so overly reliant on her for the future. It wouldn't do for the greatest wizard on earth not to be able to find his socks without his elf.

A tempus charm again, and he hurried out the door to the common room. It slightly above eight and he had to hurry to breakfast if he wanted to make it to the orientation on time.

He almost knocked into Daphne yet again, when as he hurried out the common room. 'Sorry….,' he mumbled, getting an icy glare from her and a giggle from Tracey. 'Morning, Tracey.'

'Morning, Harry,' she gave a him a look over from top to bottom, settling on his hair.

Sighing Harry ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten it, 'It's no use.' He had given up trying to tame it after all this time.

'I'm sure,' she replied and they left for breakfast together seeing as they were already walking that way. They had no other choice but from the look on Daphne's face, it was clear she didn't want it.

Was she still mad about fooling her yesterday? Probably. She didn't seem like a person who would let go of grudges. 'I don't remember saying you could walk with us, Evans.'

Harry narrowed his eyes at the underhanded insult. So, she wanted to remind him of his muggle ancestry. As much as Harry despised it, he was forced to accept it was true. Tracey looked worriedly from him to her, at her comment.

'Oh, I'm not with you, I'm walking Tracey,' he replied, smirking at the smile he elicited from the brunette and the huff of annoyance from Daphne.

The moment they walked into the Great Hall Harry became aware of the hostile environment. Particularly, towards him. Students glared at him from left to right, whispering behind his back as he walked forward to the front of the Slytherin table, where he had sat yesterday.

'Which one?'

'There you see him, the one with the scar!'

'Isn't that Alex Potter?'

'No, Alex has a V on his forehead. He's Harry.'

'Dark wizard this one'

'Practitioner of the dark arts!'

'How else could they have defeated You-Know-Who?'

He ignored all other whispers but the last one drew his attention. That was new. Did people think he had a hand in whatever happened that night? That wasn't a comforting thought. It stood in the way of what he wanted to achieve. On his own. Not some magical accident.

That said, he would have to research on what could have possibly happened that night. Seeing as his parents were still alive and no one knew the real story. Just that, that night when Voldemort attacked, the house only had him and his brother and when he tried to kill Alexander, the killing curse was deflected and Voldemort somehow defeated. Nothing about the night made any sense.

But amongst the glares being sent his way, quite a few of the hostile looks were from his own house. Particularly from the older Slytherins. They hadn't done anything to him yet but he had no doubt they wouldn't be silent for long. He had been dealing with bullies for so long that he had learnt that about them. Just as his father seemed to give off a bullying vibe.

He ignored the rest of the students, even Daphne sitting further away, seeing the hostility towards him and taking Tracey with her and concentrated on his breakfast while he read over the Charms textbook.

Nothing in there was especially useful in real life. Though, he supposed the lighting charm and the levitation charm could come in handy. If people were terribly lazy that is.

With morning however, came the news and in front of Harry landed a medium sized brown owl, bringing a copy of Daily Prophet. It flew off as soon as Harry had relieved it of its burden. He had no need to pay the owl since he had gotten a subscription of the newspaper.

The headline was as expected, 'The Boy-Who-Lived and secret brother start Hogwarts – Sorted into Slytherin: Sorting Hat mistake or dark wizards in training?'

He chuckled at the stupidity of this woman, whoever Rita Skeeter was. But he supposed he should be thankful to her. She had done most of the work Harry had intended through his little scheme. The article stated a brief version of Alexander's temper tantrum, including the rebuking from his mother and his feminine middle name.

He laughed to himself at that, not caring how weird he looked to his fellow students, who were reading the same article.

'Where's your brother, Mr. Potter?' the prefect from last night asked him as she sat near to him, seemingly not caring about who saw her or her social status within the house, which is why, he presumed, Daphne and Tracey sat away from him. 'You two weren't at the House introduction last night?'

She saw his confused look and forwarded her hand, 'I'm Rosier, Vinda Rosier.'

'Potter, Hadrian Potter,' Harry kissed her hand. 'Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Rosier. Alexander, I believe is…' he motioned with his head.

'Ah,' was her reply as she turned to see Alexander coming into the hall with Ronald Weasley and Longbottom. 'So, his tantrum worked.'

'Yes, I didn't expect it to,' Harry replied truthfully, still a bit miffed how he hadn't seen that coming.

'You didn't grow up with him, I presume?' she asked, now not even bothering to watch Alexander and facing him fully. There was a small part of him that hated the fact that the only reason this beautiful older girl was even talking to him was for information on perfect Alexander.

'I did not,' said Harry, making a cross on yet another spell that he deemed useless. What the hell would a tickling charm be used for.

'Hmm,' was her reply as she took out her wand and without saying a word, displayed the time. 'Come, you're all needed in the common room.' It was clear the order was meant for all first years. Draco, and his friends had just shown up and barely had been there for twenty minutes and as such, didn't get to eat properly.

He sighed. Mercifully the time had passed quickly as he packed his bag, slung it on his shoulder and followed after Emelia. He didn't see the glare being levelled at him from the Gryffindor table. Neither did he see the frown on Granger's face nor the satisfied smirk on Daphne's.

Harry meanwhile was annoyed. Annoyed at Daphne. Annoyed at her making Tracey sit away from him when it was the first time he was actually, possibly making a friend. Therefore, as she and Tracey neared him, he decided to annoy her.

'Ah, Daphne,' Harry said with a blinding smile. Truth me told, he was feeling mischievous and he used to never smile. But something about this made him smile.

Daphne Greengrass, couldn't believe the audacity of this boy. First he made fun of her in front of countless Noble families and their children by knocking her to the ground, and then, instead of apologising, taunted her. That she should have been watching where she was going.

What an impertinent, ill-mannered brat. And then he ignores her when she introduces herself. Granted, at least he wasn't as rude to Tracey, her best friend but it wasn't genuine. That much was obvious. It was a deliberate attempt to make her seem lesser. He even had the audacity to indirectly taunt her on her lack of old ways as he greeted Tracey.

Who did he even think he was? Insufferable git. And then, refused to leave the compartment when she asked him to. And he made her think he was muggleborn. Lied to her face through his teeth and then denied it to her face at the feast yesterday. Yet another insult.

First, she had been convinced that he was just another muggleborn into their world, unfamiliar with their ways and customs and who the important families are. But the way he had dressed leaving the train made her suspect her initial assumption was wrong.

Just after her mother had cleaned her robes using a cleaning charm, she had told off Daphne on her actions ill-befitting a lady of her station and that she would be watched while she was at school. Then she realised. Of course. The insufferable boy was in on it with her mother. The knocking her down was a test and he was a spy for her mother. It wasn't out of Evelyn Greengrass' power to reach out to a muggleborn and make a deal with him.

That had annoyed her to no end. But more so was the revelation at the sorting. Not only had he makde fun of her, but he made a total fool out of her. How did he fool her so easily? She was Daphne, heiress of the Greengrass fortune, and trained to see underneath the underneath, the ways of Slytherin. And this half-blood, abandoned by his own family for being suspected a squib, would dare to fool her.

Of course, it wasn't well known what had become of the second Potter son but Daniel Greengrass had his ways and informants. And when Lucius Malfoy had told them of a boy named Hadrian Potter, her father had done his thorough research.

So, this near squib would dare taunt her make fun of her, in front of her family's acquaintances and allies. She swore last night that she would make him pay for it. Outing his status as near squib would be a tad drastic just for this, but perhaps a few embarrassing moments were justified. After all, she could save the heavier ammunition for later, when it would be more useful later.

'Ah. Daphne,' he neared them, grinning, for some reason she is unable to comprehend. He has just been subjected to the scorn and glaring of an entire hall. He has no reason to grin. And yet, here he was.

Her narrowed at the familiar address. 'I don't believe I gave you permission to use my given name, Potter,' she hissed out, missing the smirk on her friend's face, beside.

She was more occupied by the increasing attention they were getting as they left the hall. Hell, some students were even following them, or did they just happen to leave their breakfasts unfinished at exactly the same time.

He must have gotten the point because he was silent for a few seconds, before his grin returned in full force. 'I suppose, I can call you Daffodil, you know the flower. It's yellow and you're blonde,' he said.

Daphne rolled her eyes. Was that supposed to be charming? He was an idiot. 'How very observant of you, Evans,' she said. 'Indeed, it is a wonder why anyone questions your belonging in our house with your prowess.' The sarcasm in her voice was clear.

By now, they were near the dungeons and descending down the stairs. Potter turned back from his place front of her, 'Well, obviously people question it. Not everyone can be as great as me, after all.'

Pansy guffawed at his tasteless joke while Draco looked a little miffed. Why that insufferable git. He's all but called her jealous. Of him. What a joke.

'Why would anyone be….,' she was about to reply to him and put him in his place when Rosier barked.

'Enough!'

The first years were silenced immediately as Rosier gave the password. 'It is unbecoming of you and against our rules… to argue amongst yourselves like Gryffindors out in public…'

Daphne didn't like being told off, especially by a Rosier but still she held her tongue even though she had a sarcastic comeback all ready to go.

Rosier turned sharply to Potter, and got dangerously close to him, 'Potter. I'm warning you now. You behave in an un-Slytherin manner again and put one toe out of line…'

The threat, unsaid as it was, remained quite clear. 'Of course, Ms. Rosier.'

Draco looked exceptionally pleased at the rebuke Potter got and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his childishness. But then again, her mother would say the same thing to her, when she undoubtedly heard. All because of Potter, she thought with disdain. Oh, how he will rue the day he decided to annoy her.

But that was unimportant as their Head of House entered the common room.

Inside, Harry was quite pleased. Yes, he had gotten a rebuke from the prefect for arguing out of the common rooms, but there was a method to his madness. He had known no one would tell him the rules of the house, as they went over them last night, when he was wasting precious time with his 'family' and so he had to resort to deliberately provoking the prefect into telling him off.

As Professor Snape entered the common room, all fell silent. He gave them a scrutinising look and maybe it was his imagination but his black orbs settled on Harry for longer than others or strictly necessary. 'Oh, I am quite certain, Mr. Potter is aware. Act like a foolish Gryffindor again, and you will be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the term.'

'Professor Sinistra went over house rules last night, and I am not in the habit of repeating instructions, as you will soon find out,' Snape sneered in his direction.

He hadn't even raised his voice, and spoke with the seriousness of someone delivering an obituary, yet every single person stood to attention. Including him.

Harry had to bite back the retort that came to his mind at the blatant unfairness. But when had his life ever been fair. Maybe it was a bad idea to choose Slytherin last night when Professor Snape had made it clear how he would hate to have any Potters in his house.

But he had done it spite James Potter and his arrogant son and he had to stand by his decision. So, given by Rosier's earlier statement and Snape's threat just now, he could surmise that the first rule in Slytherin was either, not to act like a Gryffindor, which was too vague that it was unlikely a man like Snape would instate it.

So, it had to be, unity. Slytherins always supported each other in public, whether they agree with the other person or not. And as Rosier emphasised arguing in public, it meant that that disputes were only to be resolved in the common room, away from prying ears who could use the information against them somehow.

A little paranoid, but Harry could see the logic in it. But then again, it went against his nature as well. If a bully like Draco and his thugs were bullying some innocent non-Slytherins, would be expected to stand by and let it happen? Be silent?

He had no doubt that he would try and stop it. But how, was the question.

'For the first week, you will be escorted to your classes by a prefect or an older Slytherin. I will give you a tour of the main parts of the castle now, so you will not be late for your first classes,' with that Snape, whirled around and left the common room, no doubt expecting them to follow him.

His black cloak billowed in the non-existent wind of the dungeons and Harry wondered how he managed to get it that way. His very aura seemed to exude power and threat that he was not to be messed with. That was something that Harry wanted to emulate.

But as a first year who could only do a tempus charm and nothing else, he wasn't one who anyone would be intimidated by.

They had already seen the Great Hall and Entrance hall so Snape skipped those, and instead took them to the large open courtyard on the ground floor where students liked to spend their free time outside of lessons. There was a large oak three in the middle and several benches around the area where even now, students sat mingling and sharing stories of their summers.

On the end of one corridor was a bright pink door. It greatly amused him when Snape pointed it out, with a death glare, that that was the staff room and had, until yesterday, been a normal brown door.

'Weasleys twins,' Rosier muttered under her breath, her disdain clear in her voice. So, Fred and George, as he had learnt from Ron yesterday, who had insisted on carrying out the long, slow, drawn out funeral march of their school song last night.

He had heard of their various exploits and mischiefs. No doubt, they would be quite vindictive if he somehow managed to get on the wrong side of them. But it remained to be seen whether they were as bigoted about Slytherins as Ronald and Alexander were.

They briefly met Professor McGonagall who was on her way to her classroom as Snape showed them the five towers of the castle, each forming a support structure. They passed the Transfiguration classroom which Snape pointed out, and which Morga looked quite interested in.

He also noted that unlike the headmaster's office, the entrance to Professor McGonagall's office, which was next to the transfiguration room, bore no sign of favouritism to her old house. Instead, it merely had a parchment on it, that showed her free times and open office hours, should a student wish to talk.

That, he noted, was not on Snape's door. He doubted Snape even had an open office policy. From there, they were taken to the first floor, which had much the same layout as the ground floor. It had two girl's lavatories – one of which was permanently broken – the muggle studies classroom and the hospital wing.

They were to return there after their orientation, according to their head of house. The second floor also had a girl's lavatory with a large, white pillared, multi sink past the door. The ghost that inhabited it, was a particularly whiny girl who had been a Ravenclaw, as was evident from her uniform. Apparently, she was quite fond of retelling her death story to anyone who would listen and lament her lot in life or after life, he mused.

The floor also had the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, History of Magic classroom – which Harry was quite looking forward to – and the lost wands room. It also had the Matron's Office, which he thought would have made more sense to be on the first floor with Hospital Wing but he had learnt that wizards were rarely logical.

The third floor, contained their Charm's classroom, which was going to be their first lesson after lunch. They made note of its position beside the staircase leading up to the fourth floor. The right-hand side corridor, was shrouded in darkness but other than that, there was no sign that it was sealed. Snape reminded them that it was forbidden and anyone caught going to it, would be severely punished.

Which prompted another question in his head. Why not seal the damn thing, instead of making such a fuss about it. The fourth floor consisted of a room that became the trophy room when it shifted from the third to the seventh floors on each day of the week; a Care of Magical Creatures classroom; several offices and an armoury that contained quite a few medieval weapons. Harry resolved to come look at it later.

The fifth floor was largely bypassed. The only room of remote interest was the Wizard Card Collecting Club and all the other rooms were dedicated to subjects they might take at third year or above.

The sixth floor was much the same and contained offices of several teachers and abandoned classrooms. That gave him the distinct impression that Hogwarts used to house a lot of more than it now does. Perhaps, he would research how many more.

The seventh and the last floor, was inundated by Gryffindors, which Harry presumed was where their common room would be. Several of them glared quite openly at the Slytherins as if expecting them to attack at any moment.

Where this animosity comes from, Harry didn't understand. There was a spiral staircase that would lead them to the highest tower in the castle, the Astronomy Tower where they would have their Astronomy classes.

Harry hadn't met the Astronomy Professor yet unlike the rest of the first year Slytherins. Professor Sinistra, the only other Slytherin teacher, had done the introduction to the house yesterday night.

Pansy and Draco were at the forefront of their group as they ascended the staircases that would lead to the open Astronomy classroom.

Harry noted on each side, the various posters detailing the movement of planets, stars and their own galaxy of each side of the staircase.

'AAHHHHHHHHH!' he whipped his head round Pansy's bloodcurdling scream.

'Merlin's beard!' Draco yelled. Harry could see him shaking from his position.

Snape rushed at a speed, which Harry would not have thought possible from the passive man, from his place in the back, his black wand held out in front of him.

'What in the world…' Harry mused as he and others went over to see what had terrified Pansy to make her shake so badly, while clutching her darling Draco.

Rosier was nowhere to be seen, as she had left for her class. The sight that greeted them was one he would never forget in his life.

The dark-skinned Astronomy Professor, lay sprawled out on the floor, her face full of unimaginable anguish; eyes bloodshot and bulging; blood streamed down her face from her eyes, ears and nose, had already dried and caked.

It was obvious she was tortured to death and yet, his head of house was quite calm, deceptively so, as he waved his wand at her corpse and muttered incantations under his breath.

Whipping his wand around, he incantated, 'Expecto Patronum!'

From the tip of his wand, burst an ethereal, silver doe as she landed on the floor and bounded forwards, gone in an instant.

Turning to see his student, still frozen at the shock of seeing the grisly murder of one of their Professors, he yelled, 'Everyone to common room, now!'

Startled out of their shock, they hurried to obey, bustling down the stairs in a manner uncharacteristic of Slytherins.

The walk back was eerily quiet as each absorbed what they had seen. How could someone get into the castle, commit murder right under the nose of the leader of the light? It was unthinkable. Yet it was done.

Harry's petty argument with Daphne was long forgotten as watched how pale she had become, an icy look still on her face. Tracey had her arm clutched in hers as they walked silently to the common room.

The silence in the common room was deafening when Harry decided to leave and get some reading done. Anything to get his mind off of the murder on his very first day at school. The obvious place to go was the library. It had always been his safe haven from Dudley and his gang.

The thousands of books in the large haven of knowledge was stunning. One could spend an entire lifetime learning all the spells and magical lore in this hall and it will still be insufficient. At best, one would require several lives just to get through it.

That made him wonder how had large entities such as Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort, Gellert Grindelwald even come about. How come their knowledge and magical power was so superior to everyone else's?

But one thing was certain. Every great wizard, even Merlin, started out as nothing more than what he is now. A student. If they could gain that knowledge, why not him. He may be cursed to be related to muggles and named after a muggle Roman emperor but he was not going to let it hold him down. He would show his 'parents' that abandoning him was a mistake.

And with all those dreams of learning all the magic he possibly could, he took his Charm's text and started making notes. Flitwick would undoubtedly ask questions and it would not do to be unable to answer them. It was two hours to lunch and then the first lesson he would ever have in magic, was Charms with the tiny Professor.

As he had left the library, with a couple of more charms books then he had arrived with and went to lunch, it was clear that the news of the murder hadn't gotten around yet. Probably because most students were already in their classes at the time and were just getting out.

On the way, he had seen more than a few people dressed in purple robes. Aurors, he remembered from a pamphlet he had read in Diagon Alley. Obviously, they were investigating the murder.

As he had lunch, he had noticed that there was unspoken agreement among the Slytherins not to talk about it. She was, after all, one of them and they would not provide entertainment to the other houses by gossiping about her death.

It turned out that he was terribly, mistaken when he had thought that the first Charms lesson would be with Professor Flitwick. No, his luck just had to show its ugly face as they walked into classroom, and he was greeted with the face of Lily Potter, dressed in trouser and a shirt, thick red hair, done up in a bun.

Yes, he had seen his timetable but it was still a disappointment to see that they shared this class with the Gryffindors. What a pity.

Her face, reflected many emotions as she saw him, which he was determined not to seem to notice. Her emerald eyes, similar to his, a shade or two lighter, went from happiness, to sadness in a span of a few seconds before she gave a brilliant smile to Alexander as he walked in Weasley and the Irish boy and sat at the very front.

Unfortunately for them, Granger had already taken the very first seat so only Potter and Weasley could sit in the first row, leaving Irish to the dark-skinned boy and Longbottom.

Harry had planned to sit in the front but as soon as he saw who would be their teacher, he had changed his mind. Too bad for him, the others did too. And Slytherins took their seats starting from the back. Daphne, quite clearly and blatantly, put her bag on to the empty seat next to her, when he was deciding whether to take it, giving him raised eyebrow and a smirk.

As sad it was, he was forced to take the seat second from the front on the left-hand side, determined to ignore the glares being levelled at him courtesy of Weasley.

He had heard some of the rumours Weasley had been spreading amongst the Gryffindors about Harry being dark because he had attempted to fool Weasley into Slytherin. To make him join the death eaters. What a foolish boy. Such narrowmindedness.

'Good afternoon class,' Lily Potter started, and was rewarded with an enthusiastic reply from the Gryffindors and a subdued one from the Slytherins but she carried on. 'First of all, let me give my condolences on the death of Professor Sinistra. She was a good and very competent teacher, a good friend. Rest assured, her death is being thoroughly investigated by the headmaster and the Aurors.'

'Do we know how she died?' Granger asked, sitting up very straight.

'Yes,' the Professor nodded. 'From what Professor Snape, and Madam Pomfrey determined, she died because of a condition she was suffering from, known as brain haemorrhage.'

'So, she wasn't killed, then?' Alexander asked his mother. Harry wasn't the only who noticed the insensitivity at his question.

The Professor did too and with a look that promised pain later, she answered, 'No. Mr. Potter. She died because of a medical condition.'

Alexander didn't look convinced at that, and to be honest neither was Harry. The way she was sprawled out, and the anguish on her, didn't suggest medical condition but what did he know anyway. Alexander muttered something in Weasley's air at which the body eagerly nodded.

Three guesses as to what that is. They would undoubtedly try to poke their large noses in the investigation. He didn't even need to overhear them to realise that.

'Now that we have that cleared up, let's start,' Lily Potter flicked her wand at the black board, and instantly, the words 'Basic Charms Theory' appeared in chalk. Maybe that was already written there and she just removed the spell keeping it hidden.

Harry noted that Granger sat up rigidly straight, her quill poised to start talking immediate notes as she listened with rapt attention. That didn't go amiss by the students or the Professor, who had a slight smile.

'First let me explain how your Charms classes are going to work,' Professor Potter came forward from behind her desk. 'It has been decided that Gryffindor-Slytherin class will be taken by me for the first term, while Professor Flitwick takes the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class. Next term, we will switch house combinations and teachers. So, the second it will be Slytherin-Hufflepuff and Gryffindor-Ravenclaw being taught by Professor Flitwick and me respectively. Can anyone tell me why this is better than the previous versions?'

It seemed that the class was to be more like a discussion. Harry didn't know if he liked it better or no. Reminded him too much of the disaster that was primary school.

Granger immediately threw her hand up in the air, as some people snickered, mostly Slytherins. Though, there were some Gryffindors present as well.

'Go ahead, Ms?' the Professor nodded at her, seeing as no one else had raised their hand.

'Granger, Professor. It gives students a chance to get to know others in the other houses as well as experience different teaching styles and see which suits them better,' she answered in one breath, eliciting a smile from the Professor and a grumble of something from Weasley.

'Indeed. Ms. Granger is right,' Professor nodded. 'Five points to Gryffindor. I conduct my classes differently.'

Harry was getting a really bad feeling about this. What could she be planning?

'In my classes, I will pair each person up with a member of another house when the assignment calls for group work or partners. I don't care about trivial house rivalries and you will work together or serve detention. There's no reason not to start now.'

Now Harry understood. That was quite a clever and underhanded tactic. He had to admit. He had made it quite clear last night that he didn't want to interact with his 'family' so the headmaster forces him to.

The question was, why was he so adamant. Enough to pair two houses whose rivalry was legend. What could he possibly gain out of this? Was this to merely keep an eye on Harry and keep him under his control?

'So, all of you stand up and move to your new partners desk as I call the names,' the Professor picked up a parchment from her desk.

Harry was dreading what was coming. Yet he knew it was unavoidable.

Tracey Davis and Alexander Potter

Daphne Greengrass and Ronald Weasley

Hadrian Potter and Parvati Patil

Millicent Bulstrode and Sophie Roper

Morag McDougal and Seamus Finnegan

Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom

Theodore Nott and Lavender Brown

Blaise Zabini and Fay Dunbar

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger

Vincent Crabbe and Kellah

Gregory Goyle and Alice McKinnon

Harry was pleasantly surprised and pleased when he was paired up with his arrogant brother. It must have shown on his face because from the corner of his eye, he saw the saddened look on the Professor's face.

Well, it wasn't his fault he didn't want to sit with him. But it did go to show that she was not going to force the issue on the first day and give him time to settle in and accept them. Pity. He wasn't ever going to.

He resisted the urge to giggle at Daphne's face when Weasley slumped into the seat next to her, but not before glaring at her for good measure. Never being one to let go a slight, she scowled fiercely at him as well.

But nothing she could do beat the disgusted look that was Draco's and Pansy's faces, mirroring each other at being forced to sit with such partners.

Almost everyone had settled down on their seats when the cute Indian girl approached his table, with a little uncertainty. He couldn't blame her. He hated having partners for anything and preferred to work alone.

Nonetheless, being civil was expected. He gave a smile and she felt visibly at ease. As soon as she neared, Harry abruptly stood up from his desk.

He could tell she was confused and a perhaps a little hurt that he didn't want to sit with her and others were looking at them curiously.

But the Patils were an old pureblood line from India. Harry had already botched up his first impression with Daphne and Tracey and was determined not to do the same with others.

'Mr. Potter, what…?' the Professor was about to continue when Harry introduced himself, 'Hadrian Potter.'

The girl seemed a little surprised at this but nonetheless, replied, 'Parvati Patil.'

Bowing, Harry took her hand in his – she hadn't forwarded hers – and brushed his lips on her knuckles, noticing the gasp from the girl and a few others, 'A pleasure, Ms. Patil.'

What was going on? Did he do something wrong? No, he had done everything by the book, just like Tracey. So why was this girl going red?

He was tempted to ask if she was feeling alright when she said, 'Please, call me Parvati.'

He was a little surprised that she would offer her first name on the first meeting but replied in kind, 'Harry.'

And as they took their seats, he was well aware of the number of eyes glued to them but ignored them. Parvati however, looked like she was going to get even redder.

Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe he had embarrassed her. That wasn't a comforting thought. Did he botch up his second first impression as well?

'Hem hem…,' the Professor coughed, getting the students' attention back to herself, and continued. 'Good. We're all settled. Now before we begin on charm's theory, let us start with something basic.'

At this her eyes wandered around the class, obviously looking to pick on someone for a question.

'Can anyone tell me what they know about magic?', she asked, and as usual Granger's hand shot up in the air.

Professor Potter didn't pick her immediately but had to choose her when no one else volunteered.

'Magic is the supernatural force that exists in magic sensitive being and can alter the reality on a fundamental. But it still, in many ways, follows the laws of physics, like the conservation of mass and energy. Magic is thought to be a hereditary trait, passed down from one's ancestors which allows witches and wizards to practise magic but it can also appear in person's born from muggles,' Granger replied, with a smug look as she completed her answer.

'Nearly word for word from the book, impressive Ms. Granger,' the Professor replied. 'Five points to Gryffindor.'

Harry rolled his eyes at the girl. He didn't think it was that impressive to rote learn something from a book and then spout it out. Apparently, his partner who too shook her head, thought similarly.

'Do you have anything to add, Mr. Potter?' Professor asked her son, Alexander who sat with Tracey and was snickering at something. Harry turned to see if he actually knew anything worthwhile unlike Granger.

Apparently, he had done something to annoy her already as she was scowling. Behind her, Daphne who was sitting with Weasley had a similar expression.

He immediately knew Alexander was going to be smug about it, as he puffed up his chest slightly and answered, 'Magic is power that we can use to make things happen the way we want them to.'

In a nutshell, that was it but put very simply. Somewhat disappointing from someone who was being trained by Dumbledore.

Seeing Harry's questioning gaze, Parvati whispered, 'You don't think that's right?'

'It's partially right. I think,' Harry replied, turning back to see Professor Potter give him five more points to Gryffindor. This was looking bad for them. They were not ten minutes into the class and Gryffindor had already earnt fifteen points. 'But his explanation has some holes.'

He really didn't like volunteering anything. Bad experiences. But he could feel and hear the Slytherins getting antsy with every correct answer a Gryffindor gets and receives points for. So far, Slytherin had nil. It didn't sit well with Harry as he raised his hand.

He could have sworn it was just his imagination, but her eyes seemed somehow more alive…?

'Harry,' she motioned to him. He was somewhat annoyed at this familiar address but let it go, for now.

Harry wondered how to word it so people didn't think he was just spouting crap and at the same time, cement his views in front of the Slytherins, 'It is a gift, a manifestation of our will, given physical form so long as we have the necessary energy to power our intent.'

He hadn't come and said it outright, but perhaps the more perceptive of the Slytherins would guess what he was trying to say. And it seemed like the Professor had.

'Yes, that was correct. Five points to Slytherin,' she replied and then told them to open their books onto the first chapter.

By the end of the lesson, Harry had managed to gain Slytherin twenty more points, putting Gryffindor five points behind them. He would be loathed to admit it, but he quite enjoyed Professor's method of teaching.

But he was always one to recognise talent when he saw it. And the effortless way she twirled her wand, conjuring a dragon made entirely from sparks and spouting a small harmless fireball, was a testament to why she was the youngest charms master in a century.

And more than anything, it gave him the drive to beat her. He would surpass her. He would surpass Dumbledore, even Gellert Grindelwald.

The only other class they had was History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost, named Binns. He had been a old Professor, who had fallen asleep on the staff room table, and got up to teach, leaving his body behind.

He had opened his book, and droned on and on, like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly in the class was in a dead stupor – which he failed to notice – occasionally getting up to copy down a name or a date and then falling asleep again.

Try as he might, Harry couldn't help but sleeping in his class and by the end of it, he was certain that one of the most important subjects they would ever learn would be wasted on such a teacher.

And so, the first day of his magical schooling passed, without them ever having taken out their wands. It was quite disappointing to learn that they wouldn't be practising any magic in their Charms classes Halloween.

It remained to be seen if other classes would be the same. After dinner, and another trip to the library, where he saw the bushy haired girl sitting behind a rather large mountain of books, he ended his first day of magical education.

By the end of the week, he had come to enjoy most of his lessons, bar History of Magic of course. But he did find them a tad tedious. Only because of his preparation, he found the subject matters and theory, quite repetitive.

That didn't mean he didn't push himself to learn more theory, or read as much as he could about the subjects. Their first transfiguration class had started out fascinating. Professor McGonagall had demonstrated this complicated branch of magic, by turning into a cat and back, effortless.

Animagus, she called it. Some of the most complex and dangerous magic one could undertake and when successful, the witch or wizard had to register with the Ministry of Magic. If not, and they were discovered, it would mean significant prison time.

He did find the concept of turning into an animal quite intriguing, if a bit redundant and useless. What could see do as a cat, especially if people what her form was? Aside from sneaking into places?

His question on if she gained certain abilities of cats, while in her human form – as transfiguration changes the characteristics of the object, inside and out – gained him ten points for Slytherin, which Hufflepuff seemed quite miffed about.

She, like Snape, also had the ability to keep the entire class silent to pin drop, by merely glaring at them. _'Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous and complex magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around will leave and not come back. You have been warned,' _was what the Professor had told them before starting on the very complex theory on mutare spells including their formulae. Again, in their first transfiguration class, they hadn't practiced any magic, but went over the wand movements necessary.

Herbology, was one of the duller subjects that he was forced to endure, with Ravenclaws, who were quite the contenders and eager learners, giving Granger a run for her money in the classes they shared with Gryffindors, or so he heard.

The only interesting aspect he could find in the subject, were the uses of magical fungi and plants in potions, how to grow and prepare them the right way. Of course, they had just begun the introduction but he doubted the rest would be much more interesting.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, was taught by an entirely and utterly incompetent moron of a teacher, who jumped at the slightest noise, or even his shadow a few times. How he could teach was beyond him. Of course, that was assuming anyone understood what he even said with all his stammering. The fool.

That was now two important subjects that he was spending money on and not understanding one bit. He had to do something about it as he refused to squander seven years of education of two rather important subjects.

Harry shuddered at the thought that they would be forced to endure seven years of Quirrell and Binns. Unless by some miracle, someone exercised Binns and Quirrell left on another sabbatical.

Of course, they hadn't had any Astronomy lessons which were scheduled, as the unexpected 'medical death' of the Professor left the headmaster in a bit of a quandary as to where to find the replacement. They had, however, seen advertisements for job interviews in the Daily Prophet and posters up around the school. If that was how Hogwarts finds teachers, then they were in trouble.

Aside from lessons, Harry was being actively shunned by his house, largely. For something that was beyond his control – being a Potter. But Harry, who had tried to make friends for the first couple of days had given up by the time Friday rolled around. Most of his house, was of the opinion that he made a big mistake by not following Alexander to Gryffindor, because that was apparently where he belonged.

Draco and Daphne, most disappointedly, were two of them. Other than the fact that he was an arrogant bully, and liked to parade his father's name instead of his own achievement, he was rather Gryffindorish. That didn't mean, however, that he wasn't cunning. Because he was cunning, wrapped in an arrogant, blonde bundle. And for that, Harry respected him, even if begrudgingly.

He was on good speaking terms with Blaise and Tracey but that was it. Theodore, even though shared a dormitory with Harry, treated him with silence. And after attempting to speak to him twice, Harry had refused to try again.

He was not going to humiliate himself by begging for his housemates' attentions. He would be better than all of them. Other than that, Harry had mercifully, no contact with his 'family'. They hadn't had Charms again, but did have quite a lot of homework for it - two rolls of parchment on the lighting charm.

Truth be told, he did miss maths a little. He had always been good at it and now he had no use for it. It was a little disheartening but he supposed trading in maths for magic was a good deal.

Even though he had always been shunned in the muggle world because of the Dursleys, he had thought that he would finally find a place to belong in the magical one. And try as he might, to ignore it, all this constant glares, shunning and isolation was taking a toll on him.

He occasionally exchanged a few civil sentences with Blaise, and was somewhat friendly with Tracey but every time he would want to talk to her, Daphne would be there. And every time that girl opened her mouth to him, barbed jibes fell out. Hell, she was more friendly with Alexander than him and he didn't know how to fix it. Even if she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, that didn't mean he was going to give the satisfaction of seeing him beg for her attention. He was better than that.

On top of which, his nightmares had increased by a lot, his scar hurt like hell every time he was even close Quirrell, and by the time he was done with the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, he would have a throbbing headache. Perhaps it was the overwhelming stench of garlic that seemed to seep into his robes.

As it was, he was very nearly close to being late for the first potions class ever, first thing in the morning. Neither of his moronic dormmates had woken him up and left him. He rushed through his shower, forwent breakfast and rushed to the Potions lab. He was lucky it was the in the dungeons so he didn't have to cross the entire castle.

Snape already hated him enough, what with all the sarcastic comments and sneers he sent his way. Of course, he hadn't outright told anybody in his house, but those glares and comments while he sometimes visited in the common room, made it pretty obvious to anyone that he didn't like Harry being in Slytherin, and they weren't to like it either.

And being the head serpent, the sheep quickly obliged the insufferable greasy bastard. What had he ever done to the man? Asides from the being the son of the man he loathed. Not only had his attitude resulted in Harry's isolation, but the Slytherins never made space for him at the table if by chance he was late to meals. Going as far as to put extra bags and books on any available space, all without speaking a word.

It happened twice when he walked up and down the length of the table, but got no space to sit as students quickly filled up any empty space and he refused to even go to the Hall if he wasn't at least fifteen minutes early to any meal.

The only consolation in all this mess was that Tracey always looked at him with a sorry expression. But she could hardly do anything about it and he wouldn't ask her to anyway. She had it bad as well, being a half-blood, whose parents had stayed neutral during the war, despite many of their associates having chosen the dark side.

But of course, no one had it as bad as Harry, being the son of the epitome of Light family, brother of the one who defeated Lord Voldemort and prevented a golden era of pureblood supremacy. That in itself sounded suspicious to him and he resolved to research the causes and effects of the last war when he had spare time.

There must be a reason why so many pureblood, sensible, civilised families sided with a megalomaniac, murdering, psychopath. But he pushed it all out of his mind as he rushed to get the lab before the door opened.

As it was, he had made just in time. Only the Slytherins were there, some standing round the corner, blatantly and not at all subtly covering the entrance to the corridor that led to their common room. Draco as usual was standing with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle who were guffawing at something or other he said.

Daphne and Tracey seemed to be arguing about quidditch with Blaise and Theo. As he neared, he immediately noticed Daphne's expression turn icy, as she huffed and turned away from him. Not wanting to let an opportunity to annoy her go, he grinned, 'Ah, dear Daffodil. How are you this fine morning?'

Daphne huffed, annoyed that he still insisted on calling her that ridiculous name, 'It was going well until I saw you, Evans and don't call me that!'

Since there weren't any Gryffindors present, Harry thought it was alright to reply, something that would most certainly provoke an argument. 'Well, since I am here, my handsome visage with undoubtedly improve your day.'

Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes, if only because rolling her eyes was unbecoming and she wasn't going to let this boy get her so low.

But as she was going to reply, an angry Draco surged forward, 'Watch what you say, Potter,' he spat the last word as if venom. Surprisingly, Harry didn't disagree with the action. 'You don't even belong in this noble house. A filthy, poor, half-blood like you.'

Harry merely raised his eyebrow. It wasn't a secret that he was half-blood, but how the hell is he aware of his financial problems. Still, he had to deflect this line of thought lest he be made famous as the poor Potter brother.

'Mr. Malfoy, how nice of you join us,' Harry said. 'And I'm not following?', he asked with a questioning look, hopefully Draco would fall into his trap. It was a good thing Gryffindors weren't here.

'What I mean is, this is the noble of Salazar Slytherin, for those of magical lineage. A Potter, who doesn't even know our customs like his blood traitor father and brother, belongs in Gryffindor where all the riff raffs go,' Draco smirked, having found his calm just as Pansy gave a shrill laughter, and his goons guffawed.

Daphne too have a scoff at Harry's expense. So, she agreed as well? Well then, if you can't beat them, join them, until you find a way to beat them.

Harry smiled, 'Remarkably, I don't disagree.'

He could see Draco expected him to argue that he was indeed a Slytherin, as did Daphne who had a momentary frown which disappeared as quickly as it came.

'You see, I asked the hat to be put in Gryffindor,' Harry said sadly, 'Alas, I'm a Slytherin.'

Harry knew as soon as he said it that his life was going to become considerably more difficult in Slytherin house. It was bad enough having a Potter in Slytherin, but it was much worse, when that Potter had wanted to be a Gryffindor.

But Harry would deal with it as it came. No point worrying about it now. 'Is that all, Malfoy?'

'For now,' Draco answered with grit teeth. 'You better watch you back, Potter. Blood traitors and house traitors aren't tolerated in Slytherin.'

'I'll be fine,' Harry was well aware that they couldn't do anything fatal to him, at least at school. 'If only because I can see Daffodil's face every morning.'

He could see that Daphne had heard it, even though she had turned away, as her eyes narrowed to almost closed.

'Tracey, how are you doing?'

'Very well, thank you, Harry,' Tracey was going to say more but a not so subtle elbow from Daphne stopped him.

He didn't sigh sadly, as much as wanted to. It was clear that he didn't belong in Slytherin. He didn't like the people, except Tracey but she more or less does what Daphne tells her to and even though she speaks cordially with him, he knew they weren't friends.

The people in his house hated him. And he didn't know why. But that nothing compared to the people in other houses. He had only been here a week, but he had heard more than his fair share of malicious rumours and lies, behind his back and sometimes right in front of him. And Slytherins, for all their rules of unity, did nothing to stop them.

He knew he wasn't cunning, or determined to great. Why in the name of Merlin had the damn hat chosen him for Slytherin? Perhaps, his little scheme with Alexander was a mistake. It had clearly backfired.

Alexander was back to being worshipped like a god and Harry was all but a pariah. If only he could turn back time. No! There was no use in self-pity. It would only waste his time. He had made his made, now he had to lie in it. But he would be damned if he allowed other people to break him, as much as they want to.

There was something different about Evans today, Daphne could feel it. The moment he had come down the dungeons and rounded the corner, she could tell something was different. Something… wrong.

And try as she might, as exchanged barbs with the half-blood, she couldn't put her finger on it. As usual, he grinned and smile as he saw her, being cordial with Tracey only because he knew she didn't like her best friend talking to him and tried to distance them.

Daphne couldn't help but disdain Evans. He hadn't been in their world for more than a week and already he was acting like he was a pureblood. He didn't outright say it but his Acromantula silk robes and dragonhide boots said it quite clearly. What a hypocrite. He didn't even know the first thing about their customs.

Hell, he had dressed up in despicable muggle clothes that were two or three sizes too big for him at the platform where everyone could see him, humiliating himself and potentially everyone he talked to. It was just her luck that that somebody turned out to be her. And not only that, but the insufferable git had succeeded in fooling her.

Her! Heiress of House Greengrass who had been trained since she was eight to look underneath the underneath had been fooled by this no good, muggle loving Dumbledore worshipping half-blood. That really didn't sit well with her.

On top of that, he insisted on calling that foolish nickname. Daffodil! Her hair didn't remotely resemble the flower. And now, he was taking to Tracey about her interest in being a beater for the Slytherin quidditch team, much to Pansy's horror and Millicent's scowling.

Tracey loved flying in general and was more than a fanatic for her favourite team, the Tutshill Tornadoes, and would love to play beater. Except of course, she was a lady, grown up in pureblood culture and it was beneath her station to do so, as Pansy always liked to remind Millicent and Tracey of the fact.

Bloody Evans. Why does he insist on encouraging her foolish dream? Didn't he know how damaging it could be to her reputation within Slytherin. Just as she was about to rebuke him, the thundering on foots on the cold, stone floor was heard.

That could only mean one thing. The Gryffindors had arrived. With no sense of organisation whatsoever, they rushed into the dungeons. One wonders how they can stand to be uncivilised. They weren't even trying to be quiet and it was entirely too early in the day for their noise.

She could see the change in Evans' posture. It stiffened a little just as the Gryffindors rounded the corner, as single mass of red and gold, Alex Potter leading them.

From his place at the front of the pack, or rather, pride, Alex's eyes instantly sought out his brother, who he hadn't talked since the night in the headmaster's office. Harry was standing at the back of the group of Slytherins, casually leaning against the wall and facing away, listening to the two witches they had shared the compartment with, and much to his chagrin, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini!

He clenched his teeth together, not entirely deliberately, angered at the very idea of his brother hanging out with those two of all people! He needed to be taught what was right and wrong, his father had told him a week ago.

Now Alex saw what that meant. Harry didn't know anything about their world, and he didn't know who was dark and who was light.

'Harry!' he called out, letting his voice carry all the way across the dungeon's corridor, making himself instantly heard over the chatter of his Gryffindors by everyone in front of the potion's lab. But Harry gave him no sign that he had even heard him.

However, the slight way he turned his back to him, giving more attention to the conversation going on in front of him, gave him away, as he ignored all the stares he was receiving. His friends – if he had any – didn't give Alex any attention either. But he was not to be deterred so easily.

It was actually remarkable how quickly Harry had adapted to being stared at. Of course, it was nothing new to Alex. He was the Boy-Who-Lived after all. Of course, Alex would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention. He had after all, defeated the greatest dark wizard ever, in history.

And he was a Gryffindor, therefore he crossed the corridor in large strides, walking straight through the crowd of snakes, stopping just in front of Harry and his friends. Ron quickly fell in behind him, and Seamus and Dean behind them.

He was glad to have his best friend's and dormmates' support, even if he didn't need it. Harry finally turned to face him directly, and for the first time since the headmaster's office, Alex took the time to look at his brother.

Alex, Harry found, shared more of his traits with their father than even he did. Their hairstyle was similar, perpetually messy, falling to their necks and sticking out the back, their colours were quite different.

While Alex had a mixture of dark brown from their father and soft red from their mother, Harry's hair was raven black. Where he got that hair, Alex couldn't say. Maybe one of their grandparents had black hair.

Behind Harry's fringe was peeking the red lightning bolt scar, in the exact same place as the red V on his own forehead, marking them both survivors of You-Know-Who's attack ten years ago. But unlike Harry's lightning bolt scar, Alex's V marked him as the Boy-Who-Lived, the only one in history to ever survive the killing curse. V for Vol…. You-Know-Who.

Harry meanwhile, was doing the same thing, as he presumed that Alex was doing. He was glad to see that he had a thinner face than Alex's rounder one. While Alex had hazel eyes of James Potter, Harry himself had emerald ones.

It was quite odd, he thought. Lily Potter's eyes, he had noticed weren't emerald but a soft forest green. Where did he get his eyes? Maybe one of the muggle grandparents?

Alex had noticed the same thing. The more vibrant, shade of green of Harry's instead of their forest green, put him on edge for some reason. And that unsettling colour was being used to stare at him – unnerving him slightly.

Daphne resisted the urge to grin at how the events had worked themselves to her favour. When it turned out that Harry Potter, the rumoured to be twin of the Boy-Who-Lived and the Potter heir would be attending Hogwarts, her mother had instantly gotten her to remember her own responsibility to her own family.

It was unknown which of the two Potters was the older one and therefore, the heir. In such cases as these, the title would be decided by a contest and in the Wizengamot. For which, each of them would need support of the other Noble Houses.

She, as heiress Greengrass, was the representative of her family at Hogwarts and her actions could also be seen as the actions of her family when she passed fifteen. Until then, she would observe and relay to her father who the Greengrass should support. An alliance which of course should result in more advantage for her family.

Her mother had correctly predicted that both boys, instead of being friendly to one another, would very likely be rivals and perhaps even hate each. While she had seen no evidence of hatred, the way they stood opposite each, it was quite clear that they were rivals.

As of now, her money would be on Alex Potter. She was quite pleased to see that Harry looked thinner than Alex, almost like he hadn't had much food to eat but that probably wasn't entirely true. Alex was also broader than his brother.

A fight between the two would most likely result in defeat of her arrogant housemate at the hands of the boy-who-lived, who was broader, if a little rounder, and likely had training from not only his father and grandfather, but also Dumbledore.

Alex found that quite liked being broader and bigger than Harry, makes his brother less of a threat. Not that he could be a threat anyway. But Harry was slightly taller than him, with his forehead only coming up Harry's chin.

Alex summoned all that Potter courage, that his father had told him many stories of – his grandfather had even fought Grindelwald himself – he locked eyes with his brother's, who was clad in emerald and silver trimmed robes, which with gritted teeth, he realised were made of better material than his. Even though, Alex couldn't say what they were made of. But he didn't need to know the name of the material to know that they looked undeniably better and more expensive. That should be him! Not Harry!

He was the heir to one of the only three remaining Noble and Most Ancient House of Black while Harry had been raised like a muggle for the years while he had grown up around magic. Harry didn't even know about magic until two months ago.

And yet, here he was, looking just like one of the pureblood fanatics that plagued Slytherin house – just like a future Death Eater. He was already making his name as one of the smartest students in school, barely a week into term.

Of course, they hadn't started spell-casting officially yet and Alex had no doubt that he would be superior to Harry who hadn't even cast a single spell. He was still angry at him for fooling him into being sorted into Slytherin, even if he couldn't prove it anyone, his father believed him and had asked Alex to play nice and befriend Harry.

He admitted, it would be nice to have a spy in Slytherin house and he had always wanted a brother, only having a girl as a sibling. Oh, why couldn't their parents have had another child after they gave Harry away? All that was needed was to get him away from these junior death eaters and turn him towards the light.

'Harry…'

'No,' came the instant reply from Harry.

Swallowing his nerves and making an effort to look at his brother in the eye, he began again, 'Harry…'

'No.'

'Umm. What?' Alex was thoroughly confused. What did he mean no? That Harry wasn't his name?

He could see Harry's eyes narrow, scrutinising him, before he visibly leaned further into the wall. Alex somehow felt even more nervous than when he began. Harry was looking at him like a cat might look at a particularly amusing fish.

Harry for his part looked at his brother, wondering if the daft boy would get the hint. He sighed, seeing his confused expression, he decided to take pity on him and not continue this dreadful conversation any longer than it needed to be.

'As sad as it is to have a decidedly muggle name,' Harry started, emphasising the word muggle, making Alex's eyes widen and mouth gape open, 'It is Hadrian. Harry, is a nickname, which I allow certain people to use. You… are not one of them.'

For the first time, he felt an inkling of fear towards his brother even if he hadn't done anything. But that was displaced as soon as it came for anger. He was already becoming a fanatic like the rest of the purebloods! Father was right!

Harry, for some reason he couldn't fathom, received an image of a fish in a bowl, and a cat looking at it from outside. What in the hell? Where did fish and cats come from, in his head. He was sure he hadn't been thinking about them.

When Alex was about to reply, the door to the potion's lab burst open and there stood in all sneering visage, Severus Snape. 'As amusing as you two are, you are blocking the way. Get in… now!'

Several students averted their eyes, not wanting to be caught so blatantly staring, and rushed in at the Potion's Masters orders. Harry too followed them, just a little dazed about what happened.

He was vaguely aware of the rush to get the 'good seats' as it were by the Slytherins and didn't even remotely pay attention, rather, taking the very last seat at the back, not even attempting to sit with Greengrass like he would in Charms and Transfiguration, before Tracey inevitably took that spot.

Neither did he sink as low as to put his bag onto the empty seat next to him when saw Alex eyeing it curiously. He was certain Alex wouldn't sit with him, not after the show they just had.

And expectedly, he made his way to the front, just like Draco and Pansy who took the first row almost immediately. He snorted a little, mildly amused at seeing Millicent bodily shove Crabbe and Goyle away from claiming the second row, even if they were somewhat bigger than her. The seat next to her was saved for Morag, who meekly shuffled past the two gorillas, not even lifting her eyes.

Then it was Daphne and Tracey, followed by Blaise and Theodore Nott and then finally, him, sitting alone, as usual. And as usual, he refused to acknowledge the pang of hurt at this forced isolation.

From his place at the front, Snape was mildly amused at the animosity shown by the Potter twins. Not just by their little verbal spat, but by their positions in the seating. It was not at all subtle. He watched Hadrian quite clearly leave the seat next to him open, making it clear to Alex that he wasn't against it and it was only Alex's weakness that forced him not to take it.

Or was it his eagerness to be in the front? Where he quickly to the very front seat, quickly pulling Neville onto it just as Granger was about to take it. She for her part wouldn't be outdone and took the second seat, next to the Irish boy whose name he didn't remember. The boy sent a apologetic look towards the newest Weasley who glared at the back of Granger's head like he wanted it to be burst in flames.

He highly doubted that that intent of the boy would actually do any harm. Granger for her part seemed to be utterly ignorant of it or was blatantly ignoring the boy. Both were quite amusing prospects.

It took a bit of shuffling, switching and swapping but the idiot Gryffindors finally settled into their seats. So very unlike his own house who had most probably decided where they would sit before the class began.

But why would Potter immediately go for the seat in the back, as opposed to the front? There was no ambition in hiding away? Why had the hat put him in Slytherin, even after, according to the brat himself, he had asked to be in Gryffindor.

Severus still didn't know how the brat had managed to fool his brother into being sorted in Slytherin but he would find out today. A subtle probe would be all it took.

He was glad that they split into two separate sides. He vaguely remembers Lily saying something about trialling mixed pairs, but that was a nightmare he would never test out in Potions. He had enough of that during his own school years.

And so, he began his well-rehearsed speech to scare the first years into paying attention to Potions.

'As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't really expect you to understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.'

He knew that as many of them were hanging on to his words, at least half if not more of them would be useless at brewing. And he had no doubt the two Potters would be among them.

The Granger girl looked like she was hanging of the edge of her seat, eager to prove that she most certainly wasn't a dunderhead. Longbottom, whom many of his Slytherins refer to as fat-bottom looked like he was going to whimper at any moment.

Then there was Potter and Draco at the front, both ignoring him. What nerve! He would be sure to stamp it out of them. While Draco was whispering something to Parkinson, Potter had chosen to pay attention to anything else in the classroom but him. He grits his teeth in frustration. What had he done to be cursed with Potter's spawn?

Speaking of Potter, what was the other one doing? As soon as he saw him, he wanted to bang his head on the wall behind him. The other one wasn't paying attention to his carefully crafted speech either. But a second look made him pause enough not to berate him on the spot.

The boy was taking notes?

Interesting. Time for a little impromptu quiz.

'Potter!' he yelled, making the entire class jump at the sudden octave change in his voice. He smirked at that, seeing two pairs of eyes staring at him unwaveringly. One, same as blasted James Potter and hazel, the other, emerald.

Snape bit his lips in irritation, having momentarily forgotten that he had two Potters in his class now and that he would have to be more specific.

'Gryffindor Potter,' he specified, spitting out the first word but softening his tone, 'our… newest … celebrity.' He smirked as he got a glare in response. This was going to be easy. 'Tell me, Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel into an infusion of wormwood?'

The boy narrowed his eyes in response as he bit his cheek. Granger's hand shot up in the air as she as she could get it. Snape ignored her for now. 'I don't know sir,' it was obvious that it was difficult for the boy to call him 'sir'.

'How very disappointing,' Snape said truthfully. He had thought Lily would have taught him something so basic. 'Let's try another shall we. Tell me, where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?'

Again, Granger's hand shot into the air, as far as she could get it. Yet again, she was ignored for his attention was solely on Potter, who was glaring by now, 'I don't know, sir,' he grit his teeth, turning to scowl at Draco and Pansy who sniggered quite openly.

'Hmm. Third time's the charm I suppose, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?', he asked again. The boy might actually know this considering what Lupin was.

'I don't know, sir,' he replied again, glaring at the teacher.

Snape sneered, 'Pity… clearly… fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?'

'Clearly, Hermione knows… Seems a pity not to ask her!' Alex spat, growing more annoyed by the second.

Harry wondered how stupid the boy could possibly be. Clearly he either missed the murderous look on Snape's face.

'Silence!' the Professor said to the snickering Gryffindors. 'Ten points for your cheek Potter! Let me guess, you thought you didn't need to open a book before coming to class, expecting to waltz through on your name without any effort…. Just like your father, no doubt, strutting about the place…'

Alex jumped up to his feet in anger, almost snarling like a mutt, 'My father didn't strut!'

'Ten points from Gryffindor for your misbehaviour!', Snape sneered.

Now Harry understood why Draco was boasting yesterday about how much Snape hated James Potter while he was practising wand movement for the knockback jinx. Harry had ignored all the boy's taunts, clearly meant to put him on edge for the lesson beforehand. Not a subtle tactic at all.

'What?!' Weasley too jumped up to his friend's defence, 'That's not fair!'

'Another ten points!' Snape turned his full glare onto them, obsidian eyes boring into their skulls as they're bravery wilted, 'now sit down!'

Harry thought it was quite fair. The two clearly had no manners to speak of, and no subtlety whatsoever. Which made him wonder the hat even placed Alexander in Slytherin to begin with.

Only someone who had read more than half the book would know all the answers to those questions. With the first question being answered in the very first page of the first chapter. Clearly neither Potter nor Weasley had even deigned to open the book.

On the other hand, Alex had insulted Slytherin in front of the school at the feast and only now was Snape enacting his vengeance. Aside from taking revenge from students, Harry felt his respect for Snape grow, despite the fact that the man had effectively isolated him in his house with a few well- placed words and looks. That in itself was worthy of respect, to be honest.

Harry watched amusedly as the two boys sat down. But he couldn't see Alex glaring at Snape but Weasley's red ears were quite obvious.

Snape waited until he was there would be no more jumping outbursts from either of the idiots, when he turned his attention to the other Potter, intending to knock him down a peg or two as well. He had expected the boy to look apprehensive, but instead he was looking at the scene quite amusedly.

What a pity. And here he thought the boy might be able to conceal his emotions. But it seems that was not possible from a Potter, who wear their hearts on their sleeves.

'Well, well,' Snape smirked once more, looking at Slytherin Potter, bringing the class' attention to the boy at the back. 'It seems what we have here is a rare opportunity to study the 'nature vs nurture' theory.'

He saw the class, Gryffindors and Slytherins perhaps for the first time united in the hope that they would get to see the boy make a fool of himself. Either way, it wouldn't do harm.

He was sure Draco or Greengrass would be able to answer his questions and get ahead in points.

Harry meanwhile had no intention to make a fool of himself and had realised the moment Snape started asking Alexander questions, that he would be next. Understandably, the Professor was curious. Nature vs nurture as he put it?

'What do I mean by that Granger?' Snape asked, finally giving the girl something to answer to as she had desperately wanted. Only this time, she looked hesitant to do so but complied nonetheless. That betrayed an eagerness to please, authority figures at least, just like Harry had suspected, from how she talked about Dumbledore in the train.

'It means, has Hadrian's different upbringing had an effect contrasting Alex' studying habits,' Granger replied in the most diplomatic way possible.

Harry smirked, the girl might actually have done well in Slytherin, if she wasn't a muggleborn that is.

Snape smirked, 'Indeed. Has young Hadrian's upbringing made him any better than his dunderhead or were they both simply born that way?'

Granger looked down, perhaps in embarrassment, as Snape stated what she had avoided to say.

'Five points… to Gryffindor.'

Granger looked up in surprise but Snape's attention wasn't on her but on Hadrian, waiting until the snickers died down.

'Tell me, Slytherin Potter, can you answer any of the questions your brother was too stupid not to read up on?'

Harry wondered, if the Professor was asking him a trick question and had fully expected, the snickers that resulted when he answered, 'Nothing, for the first one, sir.'

Harry saw as Draco turned and gave a smug grin, laughing at his expense, along with Pansy. Tracey shook her head ever so slightly, perhaps disappointed in his answers. He couldn't see but was fully aware that Daphne would have a smirk on her face.

Snape resisted the urge to grimace. He had hoped the boy would be better than his useless brother, but it seems that the Potter genes made dunderheads, no matter what the upbringing. 'What a shame…', he said, just as Alex and Weasley looked back eagerly at Slytherin Potter.

Harry had no intention of seeming as idiotic as Alexander, and elaborated, 'Simply adding the two would not create the Draught of Living Death which I presume was what you were looking for. For that, you would also need valerian root, sloth brain and sopophorous beans.'

Snape eyes widened for a second. The boy had no hesitance in his answer, he was calm and precise. Granted, Snape hadn't expected the boy to know other ingredients of the potion.

Not bad. For a Potter anyway.

'Malfoy. Where would find a bezoar?' he asked, not taking his eyes off Potter.

'Stomach of a goat, sir,' his godson answered, grinning smugly, though it was more subdued having heard Potter's answer to the previous question.

Potter looked somewhat relieved. Thinking that he could only ask the same questions. Quite foolish for him to think that memorising what was written in a book made him smart. Stupid boy.

'Potter!' Snape sneered. 'Slytherin Potter. What are phoenix tears used for?'

He smirked, seeing the confused look of the whole class, Potter and Granger included. Of course, why would he know something this advanced.

Harry was stumped. Quite literally. No matter what how much he racked his brain, he couldn't reading up on any potions that would use such a rare ingredient like phoenix tears, magical creatures which were quite rare to begin with.

Draco looked at him in glee, no doubt ecstatic that both Potters were humiliated today by his favourite Professor. 'I don't…', he was about to complete his sentence when he saw Alex's sneer.

Instantly, he remembered that Dumbledore – who people say is training Alexander – owned a phoenix, Fawkes if he remembered correctly.

What did Newt Scamander say about phoenixes in his book? He swore he read about it somewhere. And like a bulb switched on, he received his answer.

'Phoenix tears have immense healing powers, so I presume they can be used an antidote to poisons. Though, it would be quite a waste to use such a rare ingredient in antidotes,' Harry was sure it was the right answer, as not only did Snape's eyes widen – albeit momentarily – but Granger whipped her head around to look at him, eyes also wide. Was it so shocking that he could possibly know something? That was highly insulting.

Draco sniggered, obviously expecting it to be a wrong answer but was rendered speechless, mouth gaping like a fish, rather like Alexander, when Snape replied, 'Correct. 20 points to Slytherin for being prepared for class, Potter, Malfoy.'

And with that, the theoretical portion the class ended and it was time to see what they could do. 'Take out your potion supplies and cauldrons, you will be working in pairs. Today, you will brew the boil cure potion. Instructions are on the board. Begin.'

And so, they began, eager to brew their first ever potions. Snape was well aware that most purebloods get prior tuition in subjects such as Charms and Potions before coming to Hogwarts, but actually brewing potions is too risky for children under eleven.

He had only agreed to tutor Draco in brewing Potions because of Lucius and Narcissa's insistence. The boy's talent also had something to do with it.

But an hour and half into the class, he was ready to curse half of the dunderheads. As much as it pained to admit, Slytherins were included in his assessment of dunderheads.

Nonetheless, he was proud to see that all his Slytherins, were standing a sufficient distance away from their desk and cauldrons, their bags under the table and that all of them had the forethought to buy extra ingredients than what comes with the basic brewing kit.

He had finished inspecting the Gryffindor table, not even making an effort to conceal the grimace at the sludge Potter and Longbottom had brewed. Granger and Finnegan's potion looked to be on the right track but of course, there was still potential for it to wrong, so he made no comment.

The rest of the Gryffindors were either miserable at Potions or couldn't read properly. He didn't know which option would be better at this point. However, Patil and Brown's potion looked like it was going to be somewhat acceptable by the end.

Just as he finished reviewing the Slytherin table, and was about to comment on the brilliant way Draco had prepared his horned slugs and was happy to see that it was the exact shade of grey it should have been at this point. That was understandable, considering Draco was holding his tongue between his teeth as he prepared the slugs, barely paying attention to Parkinson as she chatted away.

Before he could bring the class' attention to Draco's prepared slugs, a hissing sound and a horrible rotting spell made itself known. Snape whirled around his gaze sought out the culprit immediately.

Longbottom. Of course!

'Longbottom,' he snarled as he watched the potion erupt, drenching the boy, as he edged away from Snape, covering him in angry, red boils erupting all over him. 'Idiot boy!' he vanished the spreading, steaming goo with a flick of his wand. 'I suppose you added the porcupine quills without taking the cauldron off the heat!'

He didn't wait for his answer as he already what had happened and had no sympathy for the whimpering boy who nearly harmed the rest of the class with his stupidity. 'Finnegan! Take Longbottom to the hospital wing!', he barked, ignoring the moans from Longbottom.

Of course, his grandmother would be receiving a letter from him soon enough. With that decided, he turned to the boy's partner. Potter! Why did he have to be cursed with such idiots? 'Potter!'

'What?!' Potter snarled.

'Don't take that tone with me, you impudent brat!' Snape growled as he closed in one Potter. 'Why didn't you assist your partner. Let me guess, you thought you'd make yourself look good while he failed. Five points from Gryffindor! And another five for your cheek!'

The boy had to be physically held back by rising up by Weasley. Snape's smirk grew even more as Potter grew more furious by the second, as did Weasley given that he was getting as red as his hair.

Ten minutes later, he had finished marking everyone's potion and he had to admit, he was a little disappointed in Slytherin Potter's performance. While he had by no means expected an outstanding from anyone but Draco – whom he hadn't given one to anyway – but Potter's was disappointedly an acceptable. He had expected more.

It figures his skill is only learning theoretical knowledge and not putting it into practice. Severus would have to subtly enquire about him skills from the other teachers in a month or so when they start practising magic in their classes.

He hated to admit, but right now it seemed that Gryffindor Potter, much to his dismay would outclass his Slytherin brother in magic. Understandable of course. While he wasn't trained by Dumbledore like most of the foolish public believed, he was however taught magical theory ever since he was eight.

During the questions he asked Potter, he had a brief look into the boy's mind, nothing further than just beyond the surface thoughts. And while he had seen an image of Lily Potter teaching the brat Potions at the dining room table, the only thoughts of the boy were how quickly he could get away to play quidditch. It seemed that the boy hadn't retained a shred of what she had apparently wasted her time teaching him. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But it remained to be seen how good he was at magic.

Harry had waited until every single person was asleep, when it was around 2 in the morning when he snuck out of bed and made it to the common room. Learning privacy charms were on his list of immediate spells to learn but right now, he would have to do without it.

Facing the ornate carving on the hearth and what looked like a shape of a viper, and feeling slightly stupid doing this to a wall, he summoned his breath, after another look around to make sure he was alone, he said, '_**Hello.**_' The stone viper blinked once, then twice, '_**Speaker**_', it replied. Harry laughed. _

Eventually, September passed with Harry getting used to school and still not being allowed to do magic in Charms and Transfiguration. The latter was more complicated, in the sense that it was more exact, almost scientific in a way, with complicated formulae they needed to learn governing the transformation of objects.

It was with great pride that McGonagall told them that Godric Gryffindor was a master at Transfiguration, and many of these laws governing transformation magic were discovered by him.

His question on what Salazar Slytherin speciliased in went unanswered by the Professor but not without getting a plethora of glares from the Gryffindors and even some Hufflepuffs once word had gotten out that he had asked such a question. The Ravenclaws though, mostly only looked at him with curious eyes.

Harry didn't understand what was so bad about knowing about the founder of your own house. Why must the school vilify him for seeking knowledge about his own house's founder. But he had quickly realised, even without anyone in the house telling him, that being a Slytherin, the rest of the school treated them like junior death eaters with the Slytherin crest being akin to the dark mark. A few hateful comments from Weasley had also helped to realise the fact.

His mother had thankfully only tried to talk to him after class twice, and both times he made excuses to get out of it. But Harry felt his luck wouldn't hold out too long. His isolation had gotten even worse. Word had gotten out, as expected, that he had tried to fool the Boy-Who-Lived into being sorted in Slytherin.

It was perhaps the only thing on which the school was united, where the other three houses agreed with Slytherin. All of them were quite mad at how he had succeeded. Apparently, according to the other three houses, from the whispers behind his back, it was a mark of a dark wizard that he had succeeded in fooling the hat.

Harry had long since given up expecting anything logical from them. His house though, were mad that he had tried to sully their noble reputation, which in his opinion, wasn't that stellar anyway.

But in his opinion, he had done quite well with the getting-Alexander-in-Slytherin scheme. Given that it was his first plot and whatnot, he thought he should be applauded, not scorned. But since when had anyone listened to him.

Perhaps, the only thing that had gone right since he had come to Hogwarts was that he had succeeded in not making himself look like a blood traitor

Defence was much the same, with Quirrell stuttering his way through copious amounts of stories – made up in his opinion – where he battled various dark creatures.

Apparently, the purple turban was a gift from an African Prince after he saved his life from a vicious Zombie. Do these even exist in the magical world? Sounds something like Newt Scamander would know.

Harry resolved to write to the man, and ask about these dark creatures. He knew that Quirrell was either lying or these creatures known as dark couldn't all be dark. For example, a chimaera in Greece sounded quite cool, instead of brimming with dark magic as the man told them. The class though, hung onto every one of his stuttered word, as though they were Gospel.

The only good thing to come from the entirely theoretical class was the list of useful spells that the stuttering Professor thought might be useful for them should they encounter any of the creatures.

However, the first of October and the first Monday brought another apprehensive event in Harry's life. Flying lesson. The notice that had gone up in the common room the week before had forewarned them all that the first lesson was mandatory, although subsequent lessons, held weekly would not be.

This lesson, this morning after breakfast – which Harry thought was a bit risky lest they wanted to puke anything they had eaten – was to be with Gryffindors. According to Snape's notice and warning, the lesson would be with Gryffindors. Of course, he expected a full turnout, no late comers or dropouts; them to behave in a manner acceptable to Madam Hooch and not to be caught in situation that would displease Snape.

That was another underhanded, and unstated – at least to him – point about Slytherin that he had figured out on his own. Their head of house seemed to be almost accepting or rather, resigned, to their schemes and plots, as long as they don't get caught and lose Slytherin points or reputation. What little it had left, anyway.

He was sure that his fellow housemates would despise him even more if he even uttered the truth that even Hufflepuff had a better reputation than them. As sad as that was, it was the undeniable truth.

And so, it was a resigned Harry Potter that trudged along with his fellow first year Slytherins, after an early breakfast, or rather, earlier than the Gryffindors to the quidditch pitch. They had been summoned by Marcus Flint.

Harry swallowed his nerves and refused to show his anticipation or anxiety at the prospect of flying. Somehow, brooms didn't look the safest transportation choice anymore. But it was an aspect of magical world, and he would conquer his irrational fear, no matter what.

Marcus quickly gave them a laydown of the basic flying theory, posture and holding technique, ignoring the boasting of Draco and made himself scarce before the Gryffindors showed up.

Harry, like almost everyone with ears in Slytherins, had by now, memorised Draco's story of almost colliding with a muggle helicopter as he flew near his mansion and his constant bragging about flying skills.

He wasn't the only, Harry noticed. Tracey was also an avid flying fan. Even Daphne, was vocal about it, but only to Tracey and occasionally Blaise. She still resisted any and all of Harry's attempts to have any sort of civil conversation with her.

'Why are you even here, Potter?' Draco sneered, almost disgustingly like Alexander, 'I can't imagine you even know how to fly, halfblood, given your upbringing?'

Pansy and the rest of his gang snickered along with Draco's joke, or rather, attempt at insulting him.

That, if anything, only spurred Harry to do better than any of the rest. He smiled, 'You're quite right, Draco. I have never flown before.' He ignored the gleeful look on his housemates' faces as they realised a potential point to berate him on. 'But I can't imagine it'll be too hard.'

'You better hope you don't make a fool of yourself in front of the Gryffindors,' Draco replied, darkly. 'I won't let you bring more shame to our house, more than you being here already does!'

Harry noticed, out of the corner of his eyes that Morag paled even more as Draco said this, she was already too white, looking at the broom on the ground near her feet. His eyes, by pure coincidence met the light blue ones Daphne Greengrass, and any hope he had of her coming to his defence evaporated when she turned up her nose at him.

He smirked internally, 'I don't belong in Slytherin, you mean?', he asked confusedly.

'Of course, you don't!'

Harry now smirked only and stepped forward, closer to Draco, noting how Crabbe and Goyle inched forward from behind the boy, 'Well, you see Draco, I've done some thinking. And I have to say, I'm quite content with being in Slytherin.'

Draco, and others, adopted matching momentary confused looks. He elaborated, purely for the joy of seeing him flustered. 'You see, I did some research. As it turns out, each of the founders imbued a part of themselves when they enchanted the enchanted the hat. So, it's not just a random object who sorts children based on preconceived notions. Which also means, that the part of it belonging to the noble Salazar Slytherin was the one who picked me for this house. I don't know about you Draco, but I know I'm not knowledgeable enough to say Salazar Slytherin was wrong. And you might say that I should have taken up the headmaster's offer to join Gryffindor, but then I wouldn't get to see Daffodil's lovely face every morning in the common room or escort her charming self to the Great Hall. And why would I say no that?'

He smirked quite openly as Daphne glared him like she wanted to melt him right there and then, Tracey sniggered behind her hand, and Draco sputtered incoherently, trying to come up with an answer but only managed, 'No… I don't…'

'No what, Draco? No, that you think our esteemed founder is wrong? Or that you think Daffodil's doesn't have a cute face,' he wiggled his eyebrows at the fiercely glaring Daphne, ignoring the reddening Draco.

'Leave me out of your contest, Potter! And don't… call… me…. Daffodil!' she spat icily, Harry's smiling face only serving to annoy her even more. The nerve of the boy.

But before Draco could answer, there was a voice from behind them, 'Trouble in the snakepit, eh, Potter!'

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to watch Potter and Weasley leading the group of Gryffindors nearer to them, walking as if they had paid for the quidditch pitch themselves.

Draco narrowed his eyes, 'Mind your own business, Weasel. Unless, you're trying to beg for more change? I wouldn't be surprised to be honest.'

'What?!' Weasley growled in change. 'Why you, wannabe death eater! I'll show you…', he was rolling up his sleeves, his ears reddening.

'Malfoy!' Alexander spat, plunging his hand into his robes.

Seeing that Alex was about to step into the argument, Harry said, 'You're quite wrong Weasley. Draco and I were merely agreeing on our founder's noble blood, and Daffodil's beauty!'

Daphne's snapped her head towards Harry who was looking at Draco, 'Isn't that right, Draco?'

Draco, to his credit, merely looked confused for only a second, before looking from Harry to Daphne and smirked, 'Of course, Harry.'

Harry was vaguely impressed how Draco had managed to piss off both Alex and Weasley again in less than two sentences.

'Harry! He gets to call you, Harry?!' Alexander growled, looking scandalised, from him to Draco.

Ahh. The petulant boy was jealous! How precious.

'Of course, I do, Potter!' Draco spat his name. 'Not that you would know what it's like to have proper wizarding contacts,' he said with the word proper, sneering at Weasley and his hand-me-down cloak no less.

As Draco and Alex got ready to argue, Harry ignored both of them and stepped forward to Weasley, much to his apprehension as the boy immediately tensed up, taking out his wand.

Harry only took out enough coins, 'Here, Weasley,' he handed him seven galleons, as he looked at the gold with mouth wide open, eyes wide looking from Harry to his hand.

'Wh…what?' he said eloquently. Harry rolled his eyes.

Before Harry could answer, Draco's laughter made itself known, 'It's money for your wand Weasel!'

It wasn't Harry's intention to ridicule him with it, but considering all the rumours the boy was spreading about him, he changed his mind. 'You won the bet. Now perhaps, you'll be able to turn your rat yellow.'

The Slytherins roared with laughter even more much to Potter's and his friends' anger, but immediately sobered when they watched Hooch stride up, her hard, yellow eyes much like a hawk's.

'Line up, next to your brooms, all of you,' she barked, whirling around as she pointed to the ground.

Draco was made to stand near Hooch at the front of the Slytherin row, and Harry ended up on the other end of it. And for the first time, ignoring him altogether in favour of Draco, Alexander made a beeline to stand opposite to the blonde boy, dragging Weasley with him, and giving Draco a dulled glare. He only received a sneer in response.

Children! Harry shook his head amusedly.

He was standing next to Morag and opposite an incredibly nervous looking fatbottom. As Hooch gave them all instructions and fixed everyone's grip one by one, Harry heard fatbottom tell Granger that his grandmother had forbidden him going near brooms altogether.

And given his usual clumsiness and forgetfulness at nearly everything, Harry couldn't help but feel that it was an incredibly wise decision on his grandmother's part.

'Stick you right hand over the broom, and say, up,' Hooch told them.

Everyone did as she instructed and Harry was thoroughly perplexed, as upon his command, the broom immediately flew into the air and into his awaiting palm. He smirked at the success, however small. It was the first piece of magic he had done which hadn't required hours of practise with his wand, trying to get it to work for him properly.

Alexander's broom also shot into his awaiting hand and the boy took the opportunity to shoot a smug grin towards Draco, who returned with his own, dulling Alexander's pleasure a little.

Much to his and Draco's amusement, Alexander who had been bragging about how he had been flying all his life, was just informed by Madam Hooch that his grip was wrong, making Draco snort in laughter. Harry was slightly bemused about how easy it was for them to rile each other up.

He wondered if he could look as stupid as Alexander or if he could get his face to be that red. Probably not a best idea to try. The Slytherins were all commended on their grips, with a slight glint in her eyes. Perhaps she was aware of Flint's impromptu lesson.

Hooch then proceeded to show the correct way to grip the broom, to more than a few Gryffindors and how to correctly sit on them.

Much like Morag beside him, Granger and Longbottom's brooms as well rolled on the ground pathetically as they tried to get them to rise. But seeing as Morag was being helped by Millicent, he saw no reason to offer his own unsolicited advice.

Granger was getting increasingly annoyed at her failed attempts, which he presumed would be a first, and Longbottom was almost pleading with a very stubborn broom. At the end, both gave up and picked them up as everyone mounted their brooms.

'Now, on my whistle, I want each of you to kick out from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, hover for a moment and then lean forwards slightly and touch back down,' were her simple instructions.

Without giving them a chance to repeat the instructions in their heads, she blew her whistle immediately. One by one, she assessed their forms. Draco's was excellent as she told him, and made him even more smug when said Alex's was decent. It certainly made Harry happier as well, as loathed as he was to share something in common with Draco.

Madam Hooch was assessing each Gryffindor and then the Slytherin opposite them. When it was Longbottom's turn, the great, lump clearly hadn't listened to a word she said, and pushed off harder than they were told to.

As a result, his broom instead of hovering, shot up straight into the air, as Longbottom screamed himself white. Harry heard Morag gasped, horrified as Longbottom broom crashed headfirst into the castle's wall, throwing him off.

A sickening crunch and a thud later, Longbottom, in a puddle of black cloak, was lying crying on the ground. Many of them moved closer the boy, some out of curiosity and some out of concern for their housemate. Harry wasn't among them. Instead, he couldn't help but notice the deathly pale Morag had stepped away from her own broom, as if it were poison, and closer to him.

As others' attentions were fixed on the moaning lump on the ground, Harry covertly slipped his hand into Morag's and gave a slight squeeze. She seemed surprised for a second.

'Are you alright, Ms. McDougal?' Harry whispered, turning to her slightly.

She mumbled something which was perhaps a word but it only came out as a squeak. Instead, she nodded vigorously, eyeing the broom like it had insulted her.

'Good,' Harry said as she gave a slight squeeze in return and removed her hand. Harry wasn't a fan of physical contact, but had seen Aunt Petunia do something similar to Dudders and was glad that some of Morag's colour had returned to her cheeks.

He shifted his attention back to Madam Hooch who was levitating Longbottom, 'I don't want a single broom in the air. Or the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts before he can say quidditch!'

Quite presumptuous of her to think that it would be a boy. But then again, he had to agree that boy's were more reckless.

That was when Draco saw something on the ground and picked it up. 'Oh look, it's Longbottom's remembral.'

Draco looked like Christmas had come early as he was surrounded by a few Slytherins and Gryffindors, Harry somehow ended up near to them, given that the remembral had fallen where Longbottom was standing. 'Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he would have remembered to fall on his arse.'

Many of the Slytherins chuckled, and Harry couldn't help but notice the smile on Daphne's face as she subtly placed herself close to Draco. What in the world was that about?

In his opinion, Longbottom might be bit pudgy, but he certainly wasn't as fat as his whale of a cousin. And being skinny and scrawny himself, he didn't like the idea of body shaming anyone.

'Shut it, Parkinson!' Parvati's voiced rang through the group, making Harry curious as to what the girls were arguing about.

Pansy, never one to back down, sneered, 'Aww. Patil. I didn't know you liked fat, little, cry-babies!' making Parvati blush and glare at the pug-faced girl.

He had just decided to ask for Longbottom's remembral, the Slytherin way, that is promising a favour in return, when Alexander, the subtle dunderhead that he was, stepped up and demanded, 'Give it here, Malfoy!' he stuck out his own pudgy hand.

'No. I think I will leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find,' Draco bounced the ball in his hands once, climbed onto his broom and smoothly took out, flying around the group once and then increasing the height. 'How about on the roof?'

What an idiot. Of all the stupid things to do. But then again, he wasn't going to be one costing them points so he couldn't care less.

Alexander, accepting the challenge with a grunt was just about to get on his broom when Granger stopped him, putting a hand on his broom. 'No Alex, you can't!' she said in her classic, bossy tone. 'You heard what Madam Hooch said. You'll cost us points and get expelled!'

Draco however, not one to stay out of the fun, swooped low enough to just be out Alexander's reach, taunted him some more and then to Harry's frustration, spotted him. He could swear the gleam in Malfoy's multiplied as he saw an opportunity to belittle both Potters in one go. 'What do you, Harry? Want to have a little game of catch?'

Crap. Now what to do. The Slytherins would surely expect him to side with Draco. Parvati looked to him with an apprehensive look and said, 'Harry! You can't let him do that!'

Before Harry could answer, Alexander had loosened Granger's grip and had swooped into the air.

All those on the ground then looked towards him. This was a test of house loyalty above all. But Harry refused to be a bully. He had been bullied his entire life. But how to refuse without looking like he was chickening out.

On top of that, Parvati was still looking at him hopefully. Perhaps she genuinely liked the fat lump. What a pain.

'Tell you what Draco, Alexander,' he called out, bringing both of the boys' attention to himself. 'We'll play a game of catch. If Alexander can get it from us, the remembral is his. A fine way to test the heir Malfoy against the Potters, isn't it? Or Slytherin vs Gryffindor,' Harry said, internally cursing himself at acting so Gryffindorish. They both accepted. Crap.

Not to mention, he didn't even know how to fly. Parvati looked somewhat disappointed in him. He gripped broom tighter and looked around if there was any sign of a teacher, 'Harry no! You don't even know how to fly!'

Pansy sneered, 'Mind your business, know-it-all!'

Harry couldn't agree more and said, 'I'll be fine, Ms. Granger,' as he mounted his broom and willed it to shoot into the sky.

It was a weird sensation but it took a few seconds to get himself used to such buoyancy in the air as he stabled himself.

The key to all magic was intent. And this was magic with a broom instead of a wand. He just had to assert his will over the broom and not seem like he didn't know what he was doing. When in doubt, fake it.

And so, Harry did. Draco lugged the small, ball at Harry who immediately shot forwards, aware of Alexander shooting towards him from the other side. Before Alexander could get near however, Harry's reflexes from years of dodging Uncle Vernon's fists, and Dudley's punches and kicks came into play and threw out his hand, clasping the ball, just as Alexander was to ram into him.

On instinct, Harry turned left, and barrel rolled, making Alexander pass over him, as Harry threw the remembral to Draco.

The blonde boy hadn't needed to move significantly before he could the remembral and shot right, to make Alexander chase him. Harry meanwhile, turned his broom left and sped to the left of Draco. As a result, they were almost level to each with Alexander a little further behind, between them.

Assuming the ball will stay with Draco, Alexander chased him. At the last second, Draco halted and passed the ball to Harry who caught it without even paying much attention to where it came from. They passed it between each other a few times, always a second or two before Alex made a grab for it.

After a few passes, Harry had it in his position, and was heading towards the castle's wall. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Draco descending. So, it was time to end the game. Alexander was none the wiser and was just behind him as Harry did his best not to make it obvious what he was doing.

He took out of his wand in his right hand, keeping it out of his line of sight, he clutched the clutched the broom and the ball with his left This was a huge gambit. Making an obvious throwing action, he lugged as the remembral as hard as he could, 'Go fetch!', he yelled like he was talking to a dog, vaguely aware of the gasps from the people on the ground.

Not wanting to see if Alexander caught it or not, Harry shot towards the ground and landed just in time among the crowd, throwing the broom away from him and standing as if he hadn't just flown.

'That was incredibly foolish of you Evans!' Daphne threw him an icy look. 'You're going to cost Slytherins our hard-earned points!'

Pansy and Draco nodded in agreement, but Draco looked torn between being annoyed or glad at what he had done.

'Perhaps,' Harry replied, looking towards the boy still in the air.

Alexander closed in on the ball shooting towards the castle wall, imminent to crash. Alexander gave a triumphant yell as his hands closed around the ball, seemingly only avoiding crashing into the wall by the inch of his teeth and the crowd cheered.

'Potter!' came the yell from Snape who had a maniacal gleam in his eyes as if he was just given thanksgiving gifts.

'Come down this instant!' came the equally enraged scream from Madam Hooch, who came up from behind Snape.

Alexander visibly paled, as he looked onto the enraged teachers, landing near them.

'What… were… you… doing?!' yelled Madam Hooch. 'Did I or did I not tell you not fly! You could have broken your neck pulling such a stunt on a school broom!'

'But… But…' he sputtered cowering a little from the combined glares of both teachers.

'Explain yourself!' it seemed Hooch was livid. Her nostrils were flaring.

The Gryffindors immediately strode forward to help their golden boy just as the Slytherins looked on in amusement, including Harry.

Parvati was passing by, while throwing Harry a disappointed look but not before Harry subtly stopped her, putting his hand in hers. She coloured for a second before her eyes widened. Harry only responded by putting a finger to his mouth in a silencing motion.

Gryffindor she may be but it seemed she knew how to be subtle as she only nodded.

'But Madam Hooch! I was only getting back Neville's remembral that Draco had taken. He and Harry refused give it even when we demanded it, began playing with it. I only caught it when Harry threw it!' Alexander explained exasperatedly. Many Gryffindors nodded. 'Look!'

Alexander forwarded his closed fist and opened it to reveal it to the teachers. That was when he and the Gryffindors gasped in horror. There was nothing in his hand. 'I swear it was right here!'

Harry noticed that not only the Gryffindors but also the Slytherins looked confused as to the turn of events.

Both teachers looked unconvinced. 'Lying to get others into trouble for your misdeeds, Potter! Twenty points from Gryffindor!' Snape smirked.

'Indeed. And ten more points for not listening to a teacher's orders!' Madam Hooch said, further enraging the Gryffindors.

'What?! That's bloody unfair!' Weasley yelled, 'They must have it!' he turned, pointing at Harry and Draco.

'Language, Mr. Weasley! Five points for your lack of manners!' Snape sneered, thoroughly enjoying this.

'Professor. Harry didn't have it. It's here,' Parvati stepped forward, presenting the small, glass ball to him, much to the shock of her housemates, and those of Slytherin.

Draco glared at him, presumably because he hadn't given it back to him. Harry studiously avoided his glare, looking at the increasingly red faces of both Alexander and Weasley as Madam Hooch took even more points from Gryffindor for lying to them.

'But… But… He threw it against the wall and I caught it!' Alexander yelled petulantly, now glaring at Parvati.

'More baseless accusations, Potter!' Snape sneered. 'If Hadrian had done it and you had caught it, why didn't you have it?'

Alexander sputtered, unable to comprehend what had happened, looking from the remembral in Snape's hand to Harry.

'Enough of this, Potter!' Madam Hooch had had enough. 'Detention for two weeks! Class is over!'

Draco was who previously glaring at him seemed to forget all about it and looked absolutely ecstatic at the turn of events. He clearly expected having been caught with the Remembral and had probably come up with some excuse but clearly it wasn't necessary. He threw Harry a smirk that seemed suspiciously like acceptance, even as Snape told Harry to follow him.

Daphne meanwhile, was clearly very stumped. She had secretly quite looked forward to yet another evidence that would prove to her parents that she was right. That they should choose Alexander over Hadrian when the time came. Not to mention, by the way Hadrian had staggered a little when he hovered earlier, made it clear that he was actually telling the truth and he hadn't ridden a broom before.

She was quite looking forward to Hadrian making a fool of himself in front of half of the school's first years. That could only make Alexander more influential, which was ultimately better for her family if they allied with the heir. Of course, Alexander, was only one part of their plans. Draco was another. Albeit, he was a part of Daphne's own plans.

Not that she would have showed it on her face but she was confused. What had exactly happened? Everyone clearly saw Hadrian throw the ball towards the wall, as Draco had landed on the ground, making Alexander chase it.

The next they knew was that Hadrian land on the ground and everyone watched Alexander catch the ball only to be caught red-handed by not one but two teachers and proceeded to lose Gryffindor forty points in one go, putting Slytherin and Ravenclaw in tie.

How had Patil even got her hands on the ball? She hadn't even gone up into the air. Hadrian! She glared at his back as the boy followed their head of house towards the second floor. He had somehow fooled her again! How in the world did he do that? She had her eyes glued to the boys. And he had used Patil to do it! Impudent, disloyal brat! Scheming with Gryffindors.

It was almost a shame that he hadn't realised what she had done and not Draco like he suspected. Or so he had told Tracey. It would be worth it to tell him just to see his disloyal face in realisation and confusion.

Harry meanwhile had incredibly satisfied look. Not only had he managed to salvage any potential friendship with Parvati, he had made Alexander and Weasel look like fools and cost Gryffindors points, and all the while stay out of the glare of Slytherins.

Plausible deniability was a wonderful thing he found. That and the doubling charm that he had finally successfully managed for the first time after about two months of trying.

He almost burst out laughing as he remembered Alexander's face when the ball, he was clutching vanished into nothing as Harry finited the spell. If anybody knew what he had done, he would bet money with them at how long it would take Alexander to figure it out. Somehow, he didn't think he would.

Harry had researched the charm when he had wanted to copy certain pages of library books having to do it my hand like a muggle or carry the books around. Even then, it hadn't worked as many times as he tried. A thought came to him, it hadn't taken much effort to do it on the remembral but the books were nearly impossible. Maybe the books were spelled against copying? It would make sense.

He almost slapped his head for his stupidity. Of course, they were. Why didn't he do it on something else. Well, you live and learn, he supposed.

He was too busy coming up with an excuse and how to deny any involvement in the matter like Alexander had rightly claimed, that he didn't see Snape stopping by Flitwick's classroom and asking for Flint.

Of course, he had thoroughly expected to be berated for foolish, Gryffindorish behaviour out in public. What he wasn't expecting was what Snape said to him, making both him and Flint's mouths gape like fish.

'Of course, it goes without saying it would have to remain a secret,' was the only thing their head of house told them as he strode away, making him blink in confusion and then that confusion turned to anger as he realised what Snape was probably plotting.

They had the next period free, which Harry then spent reading up on the 'Curses and Counter-curses' book he had bought. Granted, in any of his own training sessions, he had yet managed to cast anything stronger than a knockback jinx on a chair, but making notes on the details of the spell and its theory was just as important, if not more.

After all, he needed to learn how a spell worked fundamentally rather than just half-assed executing it. After the one-hour free period, Harry braced himself for yet another lesson with his mother. Charms was going as well as it could, with it being purely theoretical and Harry was starting to get bored.

As always, he sat with Parvati, ignoring the death glares from Alexander and Weasel, and curiously, Daphne.

'Nicely done, Harry,' Tracey whispered to Harry, offering him a smile as she passed him.

Harry's eyes brightened, 'Thanks, Tracey,' he replied. As much as would deny it, it felt good at least someone telling him he had done good. Of course, Tracey was pulled away by a Daphne who scowled at her but that was nothing new or unexpected.

'Hello to you too, Daffodil,' he called out from behind them, grinning as she turned to glare at him.

'Evans,' she spat icily, turning up her nose at him, making him smirk even more.

Harry, now pleased with himself, turned to sit with Parvati on their normal place, and didn't see the look of shock on his mother's face as she heard what Daphne called him.

As everyone had settled, Lily who still contemplating what it meant that his housemates call him Evans, turned to the class. It wouldn't do to be distracted during her lesson. Even by one of her sons. She could talk to him later, if he didn't try weasel away, that is. But she had had enough of that.

'Good morning class,' she said cheerfully and the class half-heartedly replied. She was well aware that they were getting antsy about not practising any magic but it was necessary.

'Today, we'll be doing something different,' she said and at once, she could see the light of curiosity in those young eyes. Ah, how she missed those days of youthful innocence.

'Professor, are we going to be doing magic?' asked Hermione Granger. She had grown to like the muggleborn girl who reminded Lily so much of herself when she was a first year. Of course, she had soon made friends with Alice and Marlene within the first month but it looked like Granger was more a Ravenclaw in that aspect.

'Yes, Ms. Granger. That we are,' Lily replied and was pleased to see their faces brighten up at that. 'We only have a single lesson today, therefore, we will be practising the wand lighting charm.'

There was a groan of disappointment at doing something so basic, particularly from Alexander and some Slytherins.

'Now, now. It is now deemed safe that everyone of you knows the basics of wand waving and wand safety. Therefore, we must start with the basics before we go onto the more advanced spells, for first years that is,' Lily had had the same argument with Alexander in private and was adamant that they not burden his magical core too soon, despite what him, James and Sirius kept insisting.

But they hadn't won an argument with her yet and it was not likely that they will anytime soon. 'Now, these are wand movements,' she drew out of her willow wand and waved it from left in a straight line, then a circle and then a line to the right, in an exaggerated fashion so they could all see it. 'Of course, you don't have to move your hand in a such an exaggerated fashion, that was only to demonstrate the proper movement. The incantation is Lumos.'

And with that, the class was off, waving their wands and incantating lumos. Lily travelled from each pair, looking at their wand movements and correcting their pronunciation.

Of course, Alexander was the first one to get it lit, even if it kept flickering a little. Hermione Granger was the second.

When she got to her other son, she stopped short as she saw his dark brown wand, almost the same shade as hers, only hers had a swirly handed that also had some black shading.

However, that was where the similarities ended, for Harry was having quite a lot of trouble getting his spell to work. His partner, Parvati had managed a slight speck of light onto her own wand tip.

Harry tried again, and again, not letting himself get frustrated. His mother stopped in front of them but he paid no attention. All his attention was on the wand, that he was trying get lighted up. He was sure his wand movements were perfect. So, it must either be his incantation or a problem with the intent.

'Good work, Ms. Patil. Five points to Gryffindor,' his mother said smiling at the Indian girl as she brightened up. 'Keep up the work, Harry. I'm sure you'll get it soon enough. Your pronunciation's fine.'

Her son only nodded at her as she moved, not wanting to make it seem like she was playing favourites, no matter how much she wanted to stay with him, her heart aching at his dismissal. But what else did she expect.

Harry meanwhile, was not one to be deterred. For the next hour, he barely paid any attention to Lavender Brown who had turned around and was now practising and occasionally giggling with Parvati. What the two girls found to giggle about in a charms class, he would never know.

Towards the end of the class, however, he had managed the barest of the sparks on his wand, no mattered how much he tried. But thankfully, he wasn't the only one who failed. Along with him, nearly half of the class couldn't manage the spell, despite their initial moans about doing something so basic instead of a flashy spell.

To his extreme ire, both Alexander and Draco had managed the charm, as had Granger. He supposed his mother deserved credit for giving Slytherins as much points when Draco lit his wand as she gave to Gryffindors when Granger did it.

As the class emptied, and everyone left for lunch, he paid no attention to the whispering of his mother and brother, only focusing on packing his bag, his mind already occupied by his most recent failure.

'Harry, stay for a minute,' the Professor said to him as made to follow the Slytherins and maybe pester Daphne about something. 'Please.' He wasn't going to listen but something about the tone of her request made him stop. It held none of the presumption of Alexander or the insufferable, arrogance of James Potter.

But he still hated her.

'Yes, Professor,' he replied, choosing to stay sitting at his desk. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Daphne and Tracey pausing at the door, looking back at him and then leaving.

This didn't go amiss by the Professor, who for some reason had a knowing smirk on her beautiful face as she hesitantly walked towards him, watching him with caution and sat down on the seat opposite him.

For a minute, both were silent, not knowing how to start this awkward conversation, or indeed what to say to each other. Harry was determined not to be the one to start it.

Eventually she broke, and sighed, 'Harry… I…,' she took one look at the son who was watching her with those suspicious narrowed eyes that made her question what went on at the Dursley house. So, she settled for the simplest starter of all. 'I'm sorry, Harry,' she was aware that her eyes were showing her weakness but didn't care. 'I'm so sorry, I didn't know. It was a mistake and…'

Harry was on the verge of freaking out. What in the name of Merlin was going on. He was well aware that he was hyperventilating. No! This wasn't what was supposed to happen. She was meant to be arrogant and presumptuous, and to demand him to spend time with Alexander, not apologise.

He didn't know how to deal with this. He was aware of the flinch, as she reached towards him, jerking away again. 'We thought you would be better off…'

Harry didn't know where the strength came from. Whether it was his own need to be strong. Whether it was his much-hated desire of a mother. Or whether it was his erratic heartbeat or whether it was those tears in those green eyes of the face opposite him. 'It's fine,' he murmured. 'It's… expected.'

Lily jerked her head upwards towards him, confusing marring her face as he said those words. What did he mean, expected? 'What… Harry, you need to know what happened at that night of October 31st.'

'I'm well aware,' Harry answered almost instantly, reminding of the time when he had the same thing a month ago in the headmaster's office.

'No, you're not, Harry,' Lily was determined to set him straight.

But Harry was her son after all and he had gotten her stubbornness from her. 'Yes, I am. The night of Halloween of 1981, Voldemort,' he paused as she flinched away from the name. 'Attacked. Alexander deflected the killing curse, somehow. And I was given to my guardians because I was rendered a squib in the magical backlash.'

Harry still didn't know where that information had come from. Yes, Aunt Petunia had something similar to him, if what she meant by 'she thought you were normal' was being a squib. But he hadn't known any of it even after her telling him.

But then, after the night of the Welcoming Feast, and especially after the first potion's class where Alexander confronted him, he had somehow known it. And it confused the hell out of him.

'So yes, I understand. It is what happens in pureblood families. Mrs. Malfoy told me as much,' Harry said truthfully, still not understanding what sort of game this woman in front of him was playing but he would figure it out.

Her face was one of shock when she heard her son had been talking to that witch! 'Narcissa Malfoy!'

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. What was that vehemence he just saw? 'Yes,' he replied.

His mother's face contorted in anger, 'No! Harry, she is evil! I forbid you to talk to her or her son or husband! They're death eaters!'

Harry's face angered as well as he rose. 'Forbid me?', he asked, his voice a mere whisper as he tried to understand what she just said. 'Forbid me!' he repeated.

'Yes! It's for your own good and…' Lily said, 'Your much better off being friends with the Weasleys and knowing Molly Weasley. She's a charming woman and light sided. And you should be friends with Rosaline or even Ginny rather than go after Greengrass!'

She was confused when Harry burst out laughing. Then her confusion turned to horror. His laugh wasn't her laugh like Rosie adopted nor was it the deep, throaty one of James that Alex has. No, it was a cackle, if anything. And it terrified her that it reminded her of a most dangerous witch.

Harry stood slowly, the chair dragging across the stone floor with a screech that went unheard by the mother and son, soft green eyes staring into bright emerald ones, so unlike her own. Yet, where else could have come from?

'You think you can give me away to muggles for ten years; keep me away from my heritage and then have the gall to presume you can command me!' whispered Harry, his nostrils flaring with unbidden anger. 'Forbid me!' Harry yelled, 'You must be more delusional than I thought!', having given up any pretence of civility he had towards her.

'Harry!' she yelled, also rising, taller than her son. 'I am your mother! You will talk to me with respect! Alex needed to be protected and we thought you were a squib! There was nothing else we could do!'

This display of dominance didn't go unnoticed by Harry, who was more angered by it rather than intimidated. 'My mother? You are not my mother!' Harry yelled back, aware of the stinging in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, something changed within him. A light deep inside him, embedded deep within his magical core but hidden under layers and upon layers, pulsated into life, awakening from its slumber, with the overwhelming emotion and unbidden despair that accompanied his words.

'No, you are merely the woman who birthed me!' Harry continued, paying no attention to the growing horror on Lily's face.

'As much as you deny it, I am your mother!' Lily insisted. 'And I know what is good for you, Harry! You don't know anything about this world. Who is light and good or dark and evil! And the Malfoys are almost as dark as the Blacks!', she said, willing her son to listen to her and to reason.

He needed to be taught what was good and evil in this world which was so different from the muggle world, but his next words shattered any restraints she had.

'And whose fault is that?' he yelled, 'I don't know much about mothers, but they don't abandon their children to muggle filth, like your wretched sister!'

'Enough!' she screamed.

Crack!

It took a few seconds for Harry to register the cracking sound, to the stinging on his cheek, where a red hand was printed quite clearly.

'Oh my god, I'm…,' Lily whispered, horror dawning on her as she realised what she had just done. She became aware of the trembling of Harry's lips, the wetness in his eyes threatening to spill over. She raised a hand, slowly, unthreateningly to soothe his cheek, 'Harry, I'm so…'

It was in that moment that Harry lost all control of his magic. With a scream, 'Get away from me!' he pushed her hand with his arm.

Magic, pure and untethered, unleashed, like a freight train rammed into Lily, throwing her across the room making her yell in surprise and panic, as a thundering crash shattered all the windows, the glass shards falling on them like rain from the heavens.

Before any of them could reach Harry, his magic lashed out, like a whip and powdered them into a dust, as he stood there, breathing heavy, eyes flashing red for a second, his face contorted in hate and anger.

'I don't have a mother,' his whisper in the air was clear as yell with a sonorous charm as he fled the room. 'I'm an orphan.'

At least, it was a good thing that the rest of the school was at lunch in the great hall, so nobody saw Harry's face streaming with tears as fled the castle, his eyes bloodshot and red rimmed. He didn't know how far he ran or where to or how long. He didn't remember how in the world he got to the island with the white tree. He didn't know if he would ever awake again when he passed into darkness.

Lily awoke with a start. She had fallen to unconsciousness when she hit her head on the wall. The setting was familiar, the white walls and bed sheets, curtains separating the many beds to protect the patients' privacy. Of course, after all those times her husband and his idiotic friends ended up in here, she would be an idiot not to remember the hospital wing.

And then like a hammer, it hit her. 'Oh no!' she wailed. How could she have done that! 'No, no,' she got off the bed, or tried to at least. Her body was still aching. How could have things gone so bad when it almost looked like they were having a civil conversation. Like he was about to listen to her. And even perhaps forgive her.

Now, she knew there was almost no chance of that. She cried into her hands; sobs wracked her body as she remembered his face when she had slapped him. But she couldn't help herself. Him talking like that about muggles, insulting her parents and her sister brought back all those memories of the dark days of Hogwarts during the war.

NO! She wouldn't let her son become like one of those death eaters! Even if she had to fight him. Even if he hated her for it, she would not let him despise muggles. She would show him the wonders of the muggle world. From architecture, to technology to great monuments like the wall of china.

It was her mistake trying to talk to him like she would James or Alex, like she would to a Gryffindor. No, he was a Slytherin. Nothing but cold, hard logic would get through to him.

But could things have gone so bad?! One minute they were talking normally, if a bit awkwardly, then they were yelling at each other. Oh! She remembered. She forbid him from talking to that whore Narcissa. Well, she wasn't sorry about that. Perhaps the way she worded it yes. But not the sentiment. She knew James would agree.

She waited until Poppy cleared her to leave, giving her a Pepperup potion and informing her that the damage to the classroom had been fixed already. At first, she wanted to immediately find Harry. But no. It was best that they both cooled down. She would find Alex and perhaps talk to James and Rosie.

Ever since she had started Hogwarts, she only talked to her daughter about twice a week. And she was missing her sweet little Rose. Of course, she would have to deflect her questions about Harry, which she asked her every time they talked. But there was nothing she could tell her daughter right now that wouldn't break her innocent heart.

Lily forced down the need to cry her and wail at her failure, as she remembered what Harry had said right before she passed out, 'I have no mother. I'm an orphan.'

The waves crashed into the black stone towers mercilessly, ruthlessly and viciously. But still, the mammoth currents of the North Sea had no erosion effect on the fortress, or island it was on. The desolate and barren island, shrouded in darkness, mist and miserable cold was magically hidden from the rest of the world.

The only beings to know its location were certain Ministry employees and the wraith like creatures that guard the prisoners, feeding on their every single happy memory, until they were left mere husks of their former selves, if they didn't go insane.

She lay on the hard-stone ground, her skin leathery and pale, her once beautiful and handsome face, gaunt, almost skeleton like; her hair, once thick and luscious was now straw-like but her emaciated face still held some retained vestige of her once great beauty, her eyes still held their purple shine.

Ten years in the wizarding prison, Azkaban, infested and guarded by dementors, the foulest creatures on earth, had done quite a bit of damage on her already shaky sanity.

Consumed by her memories of the past, she was neither aware of the dementors' comings and goings, except that she shivered a great deal. The thin blanket which was more like a sheet now did nothing to stop the biting cold in her bones.

But it wasn't the physical pain that kept the prisoners in. Nor were they chained. There was no need for that. For they were already imprisoned inside their heads, living their worst memories over and over again. Most went insane, especially after a decade in here.

She was the in the top most floor of the prison. The single window in the cell let in the salty air from the sea, the showers from the rain and the biting cold.

She had spent a decade not having talked to anyone. That didn't mean she didn't scream. No, she often did that. She couldn't talk to the other inmates, even if she wanted to. The wards isolated the cells from each, not only magically but acoustically as well, keeping sounds and screams imprisoned within the cells, with the inmates they came from.

Her head snapped up, alert after ten years of solitude and mental torture as a voice of a child reverberated deep within her mind, full of longing, resignation and utter despair. It was almost akin to the dementor induced despair she had been forced to endure in this hellhole. But the reason she was in here, she would do it again in a heartbeat. For there should be no mercy for those who betray their own family.

The voice murmured only one thing, quivering, longing, 'I have no mother. I'm an orphan.'

'ARES!' she screamed. 'ARES!' she threw her head in her hands, sobs wracked her body, once more consumed by her worst nightmare. Only, it was a memory.

When Harry had awoken hours later, it was nearing dusk. The blue was beginning to darken, the sun had already almost vanished beyond the horizon, the orange glow on the black lake making for an eerie sight.

How long had he slept? What had happened? Why had he passed out? His body felt frail. Every move he made ached him all over as if his very bones were tired. With a deep sadness, he remembered what had happened. He was disgusted with himself. For not having seen the woman's ploy. For having let his guard down. For even thinking for a second that she would be different. For crying!

He hated himself more than he hated her. He hadn't cried in years. Not since Uncle Vernon broke his right arm when he was eight and locked him in the cupboard for four days. He remembered calling out for his mother in the dark of his cupboard cell, in agonising pain. Hoping beyond hope that someone would save him.

But no. She hadn't come. Of course, she hadn't. She, who had abandoned him for her precious Boy-Who-Lived Alex, who had left him to be tortured by her sister and her husband. Why would she come for him, the squib boy they had cast aside.

Not for the first time since learning about the existence of his parents, did he wish that he had a different mother. One who, if not loved him, then even just saw him.

He was aware of the tears that had refreshed themselves and were streaming down his face but he didn't care. For here, nobody would see him. He was safe, for now. Until he had to get back to the castle.

It was perhaps nearing dinner now. And he was starving. Like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

'Master,' Harry looked to the side to see Sookie watching him with those big, worried eyes.

'Hello Sookie,' he replied, turning his head away, not wanting her to see him in such a state. He sat there, on the grass in the darkening island, in silence.

Not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do now. But one thing was certain. He could feel the hate festering within him. The rage barely contained.

A slithering sound on the grass distracted him from his dark thoughts. It was the unmistakable sound of smooth scaly skin slithering on grass that he heard before. It was almost too subtle and too silent for normal people.

But Harry had always been a freak. He had never been normal. Even among wizards now, he was sure it wasn't common for someone to be so sensitive to a moving snake. It was if there was a sixth sense, superior to his hearing, or perhaps complimenting it.

Regardless, he was well aware that a snake was nearby. And it was hunting most likely. Harry had no intention of interfering with its meal. At least one of them should eat.

Just when he was about to get up and leave, a weird chirping sound made itself known. Almost like a chick. Ah, the prey. Harry looked around and sure enough, there it was, the small, boomslang like snake, with its distinctive green skin with black stripes, within striking distance of a small, almost naked, chick.

Harry didn't know how it was naked, but the very few feathers it did have, were black. Never had he seen such a chick. Surely, it is grew, the feathers would cover its entire body but what kind was it that it was black.

That wasn't it. There was something about it that called out to him. Harry couldn't pinpoint it, but it wasn't a normal chick.

The chick chirped again, having become aware of the deadly silent snake within striking distance and made to get away, trying to hop on its short legs, away from the predator.

Just as the boomslang got ready strike, Harry hissed, _**'Don't! Stop now! Snake!'**_

The boomslang instantly, whipped its head and neck towards Harry, its black beady eyes scrutinising him, backing away in defence as Harry strode towards the little chick. **'**_**My kill, speaker!**_**'**

'_**Not anymore,'**_ Harry answered, lifting the chick into his hands and shielding him from the snake which was now baring its fang threateningly.

'_**Get your own kill!**_**'** the snake hissed back, now its anger obvious. Harry didn't know if snakes could glare but that was what it was doing right now.

It hissed in anger, its tongue flicking in and out, no doubt for signs of another prey now that his had been taken by a much larger predator. It wasn't stupid enough to try his luck with a speaker. It was a miracle that his two-legged, pink, speaker hadn't taken command over him.

Harry, who had been starved more than his fair share of times, knew how it was like to hungry for days. He knew that pain of an empty stomach and when all one could do was wish for a meal, even a slight one.

He didn't want that to inflict that pain on this snake. Especially, as it said, Harry had stolen his meal. The only reason Harry could think of that it didn't attack him was that Harry was much larger. It would foolish to risk death for a meal as measly as a chick.

Just as it was about to turn and leave, Harry said to Sookie, who was glaring at the snake, ready to strike it at a moment's notice, should it attempt to harm her master, 'Sookie, bring us some food. And some for these two.'

Harry didn't know what time it was but it must be nearing dinner in the castle. Surely, she could steal some from the castle.

At his declaration, the boomslang stilled, looking at Harry, probably confused. Harry wasn't nearly knowledgeable enough about snake expressions. _**'You would give me your meal, two-legged, pink speaker?'**_

Harry looked at the chick in his hands. It looked so tiny, and so frail. Its bones sticking out from its body. It was probably starving. Ironic.

'_**It's only fair. I took your meal,'**_ Harry hissed back, stroking the chick slowly. _**'This one is under my protection, snake.'**_

At this, the boomslang was even more confused. _**'What is fair?'**_

Harry didn't know how to answer that absurd question. Why didn't it know what fairness was? Granted, it was a foreign concept to most Slytherins, but it wasn't alien. _**'Treating someone equally,' **_he eventually replied just as Sookie appeared with their dinner. A tray with steak and kidney pie, chips, orange juice and treacle tart for him.

She also had a bowl of some odd, wet, bird food he presumed and much like him, the boomslang too turned away in disgust from it.

That was until Sookie produced a dead rat for the snake, which it was only too happy to see. It didn't have to hunt for a new one now. Although, the thrill of the hunt was something, it didn't want to have to go through it all again.

Harry looked at the snake, crinkled his nose in disgust. He may like some snakes, but it didn't mean he didn't find their way of eating disgusting. It was just plain freaky. _**'Please don't eat in front of me.'**_

The boomslang hissed in frustration as he moved around so Harry couldn't see it engulfing the rat, whole.

'Sookie, watch out that there are no other predators,' Harry ordered and she nodded eagerly, finally having something to do as he sat down the chick onto his lap and fed it the goo with the spoon, occasionally taking a bite from his own dinner.

Finishing the meal took a long time that it usually did and Sookie took the rest of the dinner away. The boomslang had long since left, with a thank you. It wouldn't have to hunt for at least another week now. Presuming it survived that long.

'What's wrong, Sookie,' Harry asked, now heading back to the castle, his head now much clearer now that his anger had died down and he had some dinner in his stomach. 'Something I did?'

Apparently, in his dazed state, he hadn't paid attention but the tiny island with the white tree wasn't that far away from the east shore. Harry just walked through the water, which was merely knee deep. It was slightly disconcerting that he had been so out of it that he hadn't seen how he had gotten there. For all he knew, he could have drowned.

But he did see the sad look on Sookie's face. She shook her head, horrified that he would think that, 'No! Master Harry be the greatest! Master must not concern himself with lowly Sookie.'

Harry shook his head. Elves were fascinating creatures if a little stubborn. There was no way she would tell him unless he ordered her to. And he didn't particularly feel like doing it. He sighed, 'Sookie, if you don't tell me what's wrong, I will order you to.'

'Sookie be missing work, Master,' she said, making herself a little small.

Of course, she was. She was a house elf. They craved service and needed work. How could he be so stupid? But he didn't particularly want to lose a useful house elf like her. 'Very well then. I will talk to Professor Snape and see if you can work in the castle's kitchen.'

She brightened up immediately, and immediately slammed into him, grabbing as much of his robes as she could, 'Thank you, Master Harry bes the greatest wizard in the world!'

Harry smiled, somewhat amused that something so little can brighten her up, 'But you can't dress in a rag,' he looked at her pointedly, but she had steadfastly refused all clothes, even to wear and not to set her free.

An idea struck her as he fished out a few galleons from his pocket, 'Go to Hogsmeade, buy some cloth and make yourself a toga or something respectable. You don't want me to be a laughing stock among the school elves, do you?'

She shook her vigorously, taking the galleons, she puffed up her chest, 'Sookie be looking worthy of Master Harry in no time.'

And before he could say anything else to her, she disapparated. How they managed to do that on Hogwarts grounds, he didn't know. But he assumed that house elf magic worked differently to wizard magic.

It seemed that he made it back to the castle just before curfew. He had gone to the bathrooms on the first floor to wash face and so when he walked in, he was sure he didn't look out of the ordinary.

Yet, why were the other students looking at him like he had grown a second head. Among them were his classmates, who watched him apprehensively, and in Daphne's case studiously.

As he made his way to his usual spot, and took out the transfiguration books he needed to complete his essay, Harry made sure not to look at the Slytherins who lived to make his life miserable within the confines of the common room.

Soon, Tracey had come up to him and asked if he was alright. 'Of course, I am. Why?'

Tracey looked a little apprehensive about answering that, 'Oh no. Its nothing. It's just that…'

'Oi Potter. Did you really blow up the charms classroom?' came the obnoxiously loud question from Draco from over his place near the hearth.

'What?' Harry asked, confused. 'Blow up the classroom? Of course, not!'

There was a murmur of something that travelled through the gathered students. In some cases, even money passed hands.

'Really?' Tracey asked, eyeing him curiously. 'Rumour has it that you attacked the Charms Professor, blew up the charms classroom and ran away.' He could see the others didn't believe him either.

Harry chuckled. 'Yes. Which is why I'm sitting here, and not expelled, and Slytherin hasn't lost a hundred points.'

He may have sounded confident but in truth he had jus barely managed to keep the look horror off his face as he realised, he had just done indeed that.

'See, I told you he didn't have the power to do it,' Draco said haughtily to Blaise, who grumbled something and forked over a couple of galleons to the blonde boy who eagerly pocketed. For some rich kids, they sure grumble a lot about a few galleons.

It was a while of silently doing some homework, while Tracey had gone to her dorm with Daphne, when he heard something interesting. Not from the Slytherins, but from his unseen informant.

'Draco?' he called over the boy, who was playing exploding snap with Crabbe.

'What is it, Potter?' Draco didn't look over as he concentrated on getting double bowtruckles.

'I heard you have a duel with Alexander tonight,' Harry replied, taking a seat near the trio playing exploding snap.

That was when the deck exploded and Draco cursed, 'Who told you that?', eyeing him suspiciously. So was Blaise with narrowed eyes.

Harry smirked. That was an advantage he wasn't about to fork over any time soon. 'I have my sources. And besides, you weren't exactly subtle about it.'

Draco frowned at the implication that he had acted in a non-Slytherin way. While it was true, he hadn't been subtle but that was the point. He smirked at the idiot questioning him. 'Don't worry about it. I'm not going to cost us points, unlike you.'

Harry grinned. That was all that was he needed. Harry nodded, and got up to leave, waiting for midnight.

Any Slytherin worth his salt would know that a duel at midnight, on the first floor where there are patrols around, would surely get them caught. Even if they managed to somehow evade the patrols, the noise would surely attract them.

And Harry had just confirmed that Draco wasn't a fool, after all. So, he must have told Filch already, or Professor Snape, which was more likely. In a weird way, Harry, for all that he disliked the blonde braggart, felt proud of him.

Now it was up to Harry to improve upon Draco's plan. But it would be risky no doubt. But nothing comes without taking a few strategic risks. At exactly eleven, Harry with a large bag over his shoulders, like Santa, snuck through the passageway of the Slytherin common room, and into the castle, praying that he not be caught before his plan even came to fruition.

Almost there, Harry even breathed cautiously, careful to stay in the shadows, he crept forward. It would be a great help to be able to light his wand, but one, it would attract undue attention of the portraits, and two, he couldn't do the damn charm.

It was a whirlwind of events that confused Alex today. His mother had somehow ended up in the hospital wing, with bruised ribs and a concussion, with all the windows shattered in her classroom and Merlin knows what else. But she was fine and he couldn't focus on that now.

The rest of the evening since dinner, Alex had been imparting duelling tips to Ron, who was supposed to be his second. Tips that he had learnt from his father in their practice duels. Of course, his mother wasn't agreeable to it, but he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He needed to be trained properly. So, he and his father and occasionally his godfather, Sirius made use of the duelling room in their home in London.

Small tit bits of information like dodging wherever possible; not shielding when one doesn't know a shield charm; and always being first in a duel. At half past eleven, him and Ron snuck down from their dormitory.

They were already halfway through the portrait hole when there was a cough from behind them. They froze and slowly turned as a lamp flickered on, only to let out their breaths, seeing that it was just Granger sitting on the sofa with a fierce scowl on her face.

'Granger?' Ron asked confusedly, just as confused as Alex felt. 'Go back to bed,' he hissed harshly.

'How hypocritic of you, Ronald,' Granger replied, scowling even fiercer. 'I heard you two in the Great Hall, and so did a few others. You two are going to get caught and you'll lose Gryffindor all the points that I got for knowing about switching spells!'

Alex sighed exasperatedly, 'No we're not. Go to bed, Granger!' He knew that for a fact, as he padded the parchment hidden in his hoodie pocket.

'Yeh. Who cares about a few points anyway?' Ron said, turning towards the hole again.

Alex couldn't help but agree. What was a few house points in exchange for showing Malfoy who was boss at this school, once and for all? And in any case, he had to get him back for stunt they pulled this morning with the remembral. And Harry too, when Alex got the chance. He was still confused about that but that could wait till later.

'No, you will!' Granger stood up, frowning at them. They sighed annoyedly. They had never met such an interfering girl all their life and they lived with their mothers for Merlin's sake – both of whom had no sense of their privacy.

'Come on, Ron. Let's just go,' Alex said, pulling his best friend with him. Ron followed but not without giving Granger one last glare.

The fat lady grumbled incoherently about brats not letting her sleep as they pushed the portrait door open. Granger followed them through. 'Don't either of you care at all about Gryffindor. You just lost forty points this morning! I don't Slytherin to win the house cup for eight year in a row and if you don't come back, I will tell….'

Ron hissed, 'Go away!'

If anything, Granger glared even fiercely and whirled around to return to bed. Only, she couldn't. The fat lady was gone.

'Uggh!' she sighed exasperatedly and followed them.

'What are you doing?!' Ron hissed, and Alex saw the problem. But that didn't mean the interfering girl had to come with them.

'I'm coming with you,' Granger said smugly. Alex thought she was far too smug for someone who was locked out at night, after hours.

'No you're not!' Alex replied, striding forward, only to fall as he bumped into a pudgy lump on the floor.

The lump groaned in pain. What in the hell?

'Neville!' Granger said, surprised. Indeed, on the floor, getting up along with him, was Neville Longbottom.

Ron groaned in annoyance that Alex completely understood.

'What are you doing out here?' Granger asked, also confused at the turn of events. Ugh they were getting late. He would be damned if he let Malfoy think he was a chicken.

'Well…. Its… That is I…,' Neville mumbled something, looking down at his feet.

'You forgot the password, again?' Granger said, disbelief clear in her tone.

Neville nodded, blushing in embarrassment. Alex sighed, 'Password is Cadogan. But you'll have to wait until the fat lady comes back. Ron, come!'

'But…!' Neville moaned loudly, looking back the portrait.

'Shut it!' Ron hissed at him, looking around. Neville immediately put his hand at his mouth, terrified that somebody might have heard him. 'Wait don't leave without me…,' the pudgy boy followed the duo, with a nodding Granger behind him.

Harry was almost there, just a little further. He stuck his head around the corridor slightly, to see if anyone was there or hear any footsteps.

'Ahem,' there was a sudden cough from behind him as a light lit up. Yelping in a rather undignified manner, Harry turned around slowly. Crap. He had been so close.

Only to see none other than his dormmate. 'What in the hell, Zabini! What are you doing here?', he whispered harshly, turning to see if anyone was there.

'What does it look like, following you of course,' Blaise replied nonchalantly as Harry rolled his eyes, continuing on his way to the trophy room.

'I can see that,' Harry replied. 'Why?'

'I was curious as to what you were doing sneaking out at the time nearer to Draco's duel,' Blaise smirked at him, and noting his narrowed eyes at the lit wand. Muttering 'Nox' under his breath, he turned it off, following Harry. 'Particularly when Draco has no intention to duel your brother.'

'I know that,' Harry sighed. 'I'm not stupid.'

'Says the boy sneaking about at night without a plan,' Blaise snipped back.

Harry shook his head. He had a plan. He just wasn't going to tell Zabini about it. 'Oh, and what about you? Following me without knowing the situation. Very unslytherin of you.'

'Don't be silly, Potter,' he replied, his tone was as if he was deeply insulted that Harry would even insinuate that he would act in a frankly Gryffindorish manner. Which he no doubt thought Harry was doing.

Harry chuckled, but didn't deign him with a response. 'Well, well. Ickle Potter. Out of bed after curfew!'

Crap! They whirled around to see Peeves of all people floating there, grinning like the loon he was.

'What am I to do!,' he cackled. Blaise frantically looked around to see if someone had heard him while Harry racked his brain for something to appease the mischievous poltergeist.

'Peeves. Quiet, please!' Blaise begged him as he got a sudden gleam in his eyes.

'Hey Peeves, I've got a deal for you,' Harry said, hoping this would appease him. This stopped the menace before he even started yelling, which he was no doubt about to do.

'Dealsie with Peevsie?' he asked curiously, just as Blaise looked at him as if he had offered his kidney.

Harry nodded. 'I will give you four dungbombs if you don't tell anyone of me and Blaise being out of bed.'

Peeves' eyes widened as he adopted a thinking expression, 'Six dungbombs, and Potter got a dealsie.'

Harry rolled his eyes, 'Fine.'

Opening his bag, he handed Peeves the required amount, but strategically hid the rest, not wanting to know how many he had asked Sookie to buy for him.

'Good to do business with you, Potter,' tipping his absurd hat, Peeves floated away round the corridor, no doubt to cause more havoc.

'What?' he asked Blaise, seeing his questioning gaze.

'Nothing,' Blaise replied wisely, having figured out that whatever plan Harry had, he wouldn't share it with him. Not yet, at least.

Half an hour later, they were done laying the trap. Blaise had reluctantly agreed. He was quite fussy about possibly messing up his immaculate sleeping gown.

They were just about to exit the trophy room, wrinkling their noses when a large scream sounded from somewhere dangerously close to them.

'STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS IN THE CORRIDOR! POTTER NEAR THE TROPHY ROOM!'

Crap. Peeves had ratted them out. Almost instantly, they heard the sound of quickly shuffling feet and a lantern. Harry and Blaise bolted, out of the trophy room, and rounded a corner.

There was nowhere to hide. They were going to get caught and Snape was going to skin them alive. Crap.

'In there, now!' Harry pointed to the broom cupboard, wrenching open the door.

'Are you insane,' Blaise hissed at him. 'We'll get caught!'

'Do you have any other plan?' Harry asked, rushing into the cupboard, Blaise reluctantly following him into the closet, muttering about enclosed spaces. But Harry had plenty of experience with that.

Taking out his wand, he did the much-practiced wand motion, and muttered, 'Colloportus!'

It didn't work. Crap. He did it three times again, just as the sound of feet got louder as they held their breath. It was Filch alright. They could hear Mrs. Norris nearby.

Once, twice, he tried the handle and it didn't work, much to Harry's pleasure. He tried a third time, grumbling about fiendish Potter and hurried away.

Waiting a couple of minutes for the coast to clear, he did the unlocking charm and they crept out the broom cupboard, and upon seeing that the coast was clear, they bolted, opposite to the side of the Trophy Room.

Filch was still nearby. Harry just hoped his plan worked. It was a hastily put together scheme that there was the saying that no plan survived first contact. And his had already failed, somewhat.

'Sookie!' Harry whispered as they ran. Blaise's eyes widened at the familiar elf that popped up, running along with them. Harry cursed internally, at having to show a useful tool in front of Blaise, but he was desperate. He was sure that Peeves yelling would have attracted prefect patrols.

'Master?'

'I need you to create a distraction. Alex and Weasel are somewhere on the first floor. I need you to do something to give away their position,' Harry ordered, already coming up with a second part.

'What are you thinking, Potter!' Blaise asked they hurried away, doing their best to keep silent.

Harry replied, 'Hoping to pin the blame on a different Potter.'

With that, Harry took a deep breath. He had a lot of practice for this, getting Dudley in trouble at school. 'Not a word about this to anyone!' he warned Blaise who only raised his eyebrow but nodded, seeing as the situation was dire.

With as much magic as he could gather in his throat, making Blaise pale, he yelled.

Alex and his company were nearly to the Trophy Room when they heard a sound from behind them. The unmistakable chuckle. They turned around, horrified. There was no Draco and no Crabbe.

'Ooooh!' Peeves' eyes gleamed with a manic look, 'Ickle firsties out of bed! Ohhh what is Peevsie to do!', he cackled like a loon.

Everyone paled considerably, as Alex begged, 'Peeves, please! No…'

'Tut tut… naughty naughty Potter!' he cackled, jumping up and down on the head of a suit of armour. 'Ickle naughy firsties shouldn't be out of bed…'

'Shut it Peeves!' Ron hissed furiously at the poltergeist and made the mistake of trying to swipe at him.

Peeves gave them a wink and threw his head back. They knew what was going to happen and bolted right away.

'STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS IN THE CORRIDOR! POTTER NEAR THE TROPHY ROOM!'

'Dammit Peeves,' Alex growled as they ran out of the trophy room as footsteps reverberated.

There was a crash, making Hermione yelp in surprise, their heartbeats frantic. 'What?' Peeves was still behind them. They could hear him screaming his head off.

Then another crash from in front of them. As they ran forward, they saw the fallen armour, then another, making an even louder crash. What in the world was going on?

Then there was a yell. Alex was mystified. As were the others. It was his voice. His own voice yelling. But it wasn't coming from his mouth. 'RON! HURRY UP! WE CAN'T GET CAUGHT! I'M THE BOY-WHO-LIVED! AND BESIDES, FILCH CAN'T DO ANYTHING TO US! LEAVE THE DUNGBOMBS!'

Horrified beyond belief, they had stopped to hear the voice. What in the name of Merlin was going on? What dungbombs? Who was that?

Alex sprinted down the corridor, the other three, hot on his heels as they threw themselves onto a staircase that promptly moved. Impatiently, they waited until it stopped. They sprinted forwards, from a wall filled with stone statues, the lanterns lining the corridor flaring to life magically.

There was another crash from behind them. An armour again. Or maybe a statue!

'What is happening!' Hermione hissed frantically from behind him. Neville was whimpering as he followed them.

'I don't know!' Alex replied trying the lock of the door. 'Dammit. It's locked!'

'Ugh move over!' Hermione pushed him aside, tapping the lock with her wand. 'Alohomora!'

The lock immediately clicked open. Alex wrenched it open and they rushed in, closing it as soon as Neville was in, listening to any sounds of Filch. There didn't seem to be. Thank Merlin. They were safe now.

'Peeves that menace!' Alex whispered as they didn't hear another crash or footsteps. All of them were pressed to the door, itching to get out and on the way to the common room even as Neville whimpered behind them.

Pulling on Alex's robe, he muttered, 'Guys….'

'Shush, Neville!' Alex shushed him, taking his hand off his robe.

'Alex…'

'Shush!'

'But…'

All of three of them whirled around, determined to silence their non-silence companion when all of their breaths left their bodies.

There, on the floor, was a very large dog. With three heads. It yawned, its three pairs of eyelids flickering awake ever so slowly.

All of a sudden, there was a loud crash of stone breaking from somewhere outside. Neville whimpered. The eyelids snapped open and the three headed dog growled, rising to its feet.

'AHHHHH!' they screamed, Alex threw open the door and bolted out, the three following him, with Neville's whimpers having turned to moans now.

The dog growled and barked and snapped, ramming its large heads onto the door as they pushed it back with all their might, determined not to let the beast out.

They were losing the fight. It was too strong! They needed to bolt. Fast!

'Ciero!' a white bolt of light shot past them to the door and it snapped shut with a hiss. All four of relaxed visibly against the door, the dog's barks and growls being magically silenced until they couldn't be heard any longer.

As one, the quartet snapped their heads up. Who had cast the spell? Filch couldn't have, he was a squib.

Slowly, they turned, only to see the furiously, glowing face of one Minerva McGonagall, looking the personification of death, her nostrils flaring, her jaw tight and her hand white around her wand and behind her, a thoroughly unamused, rule abiding, prefect, perfect Percy Weasley, his face as red as his hair.

Neville whimpered, trembling beside Alex. Even Granger quivered and for once, Alex could understand their reactions.

'What in the world are you four doing?' she whispered, but no one could mistake the rage in her voice.

Harry and Blaise, mercifully had a very short run from the trophy room to the entrance hall and from there into the dungeons, where thankfully they would be safe from the rest of the school.

'Wolfsbane,' Harry whispered, rushing through the open passage, followed hastily by Blaise. Once safely inside the comfort of their sanctuary, they both let out the breath they had been holding.

They looked at each other, feeling quite triumphant at their adventure, burst into chuckles.

'And what would two fine, young gentlemen such yourselves be doing out of bed this time in the morning?'

They both froze instantly, their chuckles dying in their throats. Slowly, they turned their heads until they faced their completely and utterly furious head of house, still half hidden in the shadow of the room, giving him an incredibly creepy look, his black eyes threatening to incinerate them on the spot.

Shadows flickered onto his visage from the dying embers in the hearth. 'I trust neither of you were caught in this particular endeavour of yours?'

Harry shook his head, already coming up with half a dozen excuses. Blaise replied, deceptively calm in a way that made Harry quite jealous of him, 'No sir.'

Snape only nodded, 'Mr. Zabini. Go to bed.'

Blaise wasted not a second as he hurried off to their dorm, but the look in his eyes made it clear that the questions weren't over.

'Sir, I…'

'Silence,' he drawled and instantly Harry shut his mouth.

One of the things that he admired about his hateful Head of House was his uncanny ability to appear threatening without even raising his voice. A hiss, a whisper and his countenance was enough to make people feel that they should be quiet.

'I do not know what you were up to nor I do care to know,' Snape said, 'But know this. Your father too was an arrogant lout during his time here, and still his no doubt. He too strutted about after hours, thinking rules were below the likes of quidditch gods like him, for mere mortals like us.'

And as quick as a snake, he swooped down onto him. Harry couldn't help his eyes from widening. 'I will not tolerate such behaviour from you. Am I clear?'

Harry nodded, not saying a word. But a question was burning in his mind. How had he known. Did he check their dorms after midnight?

'Good,' Snape sat back down in the armchair. 'Now as it happens, I was looking for you during the day but couldn't find you! Would you care to explain your absence from lunch, or defence against the dark arts or astronomy? Or perhaps you would like to explain why your mother was in the hospital wing with a charms classroom trashed?'

Harry's mind whirled with the questions he had asked, trying to come up with a suitable lie.

'And trust me. I shall know if you lie,' Snape said dangerously. Harry cursed internally.

'Accidental magic, sir. It got out of control after a…. difficult meeting with Professor Potter,' Harry replied, not breaking gaze with the man. He knew as well as he felt the brush of magic in his head.

None of them said anything for a while. Until Snape let out a breath of sigh, frustrated. 'And I had thought you were more sensible than that foolish brother of yours. So, what was it that warranted such an act of Gryffindorish stupidity from you?'

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Snape wasn't digging more into the encounter he no doubt saw in his head. He knew he had to work on his occlumency but of course, he was nowhere near powerful enough to keep someone like Snape out of his head.

Why was he asking about tonight when most likely know it, 'To establish Slytherin's point lead, sir.'

'Hmmm,' was Snape only reply as he stood up from his place on the armchair and towards the entrance door. 'Detention tomorrow night at seven, Potter.'

Harry nodded, taking Snape's dismissal and made his way to the dorm, glad that his scheme had went as had expected, despite the minor setback of Peeves.

From his place near the fireplace, Snape's eyes didn't leave the boy's back. Instead, the gears were turning in his head, as he contemplated about the enigma that was Hadrian Potter. And much like his own charges, he began plotting. But unlike the dunderheads, his were subtle and he didn't get caught carrying them out.

Now it remained to be seen what happened to the others. For the first time since he woke up in the morning, Severus Snape had a reason to smile as he went to bed.

The next day, Harry woke up, feeling unusually happy. No, it was more like a feeling on freedom. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

And for the first time in his life. He felt like he could do whatever he wanted. He was free. It was a… foreign feeling. And he was determined to milk it for however long it lasted.

Another hour and half later, and he had performed his regular morning running exercises and ablutions, dressed in his usual expensive robes, Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. Not sparing a glance to the stares and glares that had become almost a part of his everyday life, he filled his plate with bacon, sausages, eggs and dug in, as sophisticated as he could manage, as hungry as he was.

Harry paid no attention to the snickering Slytherins or the wide open, gaping mouths of the other students houses when he fed the little raven chick he took out from his pocket.

He couldn't leave the poor thing alone in the dormitory. Merlin knew there were enough cats in there that the chick would be dead and in some beasts' stomach before first period. It was probably an owl, he decided. Or more unlikely, a raven.

It was still quite weak. Like it had been injured somehow. He made a mental note to read up on healing spells as soon as possible. But it was a given that he couldn't carry the thing in his pocket everywhere he went.

He would give it to Sookie to take care of during the day after he left here. Taking out the Charms book he had borrowed from the library, he continued reading up on the chapter of shield charms, their uses and different types of shield charms.

It wasn't a spell book, but a completely theoretical one. Harry's problem with spells was a recurring one and it was quite unpredictable and stumped him more than anything did. Why had a simple lighting charm not worked for him, but the locking and unlocking charms did. Granted, he had been practicing those two ever since he had started Hogwarts. So maybe that was the case.

'Hey Harry,' he looked up from the book as Tracey sat near him but not beside or opposite to him. That was still quite a change. She was still beside Daphne. But normally, they sat nowhere near him. 'What's that?' she motioned towards the chick who was sitting near the book.

'Morning, Tracey.' Momentarily Harry was confused. He thought she was pointing to the book. 'Oh this. I found it yesterday. An owl chick. It's injured, I think.'

'If a weak chick is injured, you let it die,' Draco drawled on in his arrogant tone. 'You don't encourage its weakness.'

Daphne nodded to Draco's sentiment and that also stumped Harry. Something had changed in Daphne. Why was she sitting so close to the blonde ponce?

'Hello Daffodil,' Harry gave her a charming grin. Or what he hoped was charming. 'Hoe are you this fine morning?'

Her face tightened as he used that insufferable nickname again, despite all her protests. 'I'm fine. Evans! Until I saw your face that is.'

The git didn't let it the retort break him. 'Of course, you are. You grow more beautiful with every passing day.'

She huffed and looked away, not deigning to give a response to his useless attempts at charming her.

'Keep your witless comments to yourself, Potter,' Draco added, looking a little annoyed at him but his attention was soon at Pansy who slid next to Draco and draped herself on his arm.

'Aww, Drake, you didn't wait for me in the common room,' she said, looking at him admiringly, giving a curt nod to everyone else and to Harry's amusement and confusion, a glare, not to him but to Daphne.

That was interesting. And new. Blaise soon joined them, and Harry was left even more confused. What in the name of Merlin was going on? Zabini was sitting opposite him. Surely, they had planned something sinister and dastardly. He wouldn't fall in one of their plots.

'Where are you going?' Zabini asked him as he got up, making everyone else look at him in surprise.

Harry grinned, at Daphne, 'As much as I like being in Daffodil's charming and stimulating company, I have the transfiguration essay to complete sadly,' he bowed gallantly to her scowling face and was about to leave when the group received a most unexpected visit.

From Alexander Potter and his sidekick, Weasel. They were both glaring, death. Only, not at him this time. But at Draco. That was amusing. Harry decided to stay to be entertained for a little while before getting to work.

He could see the hall was almost filled, and most looked on, intrigued as to what would take the Gryffindor Golden Boy to the snake's table.

Draco and Alex exchanged a few jibes at each other and Harry rolled his eyes. Both were such children.

'You got scared, Malfoy?' Alex sneered at Draco. 'You didn't show!'

'Show where?' Harry had to give credit to Draco's acting skills at looking confused when he knew exactly what Alexander was saying.

Weasel growled at something incoherently from behind Alexander. From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Professor McGonagall leaning in to tell something to Professor Potter, who grew angrier by the second.

Alex however, wasn't aware of that developing situation. Harry was glad he had decided to stay and sat back down.

'You chickened out of our duel last night!' Alex spat, waving his hands around like a child throwing a tantrum. 'And because of you, we lost points and Filch said that I exploded dungbombs in the Trophy Room! Admit it, it was you!'

Weasel nodded vigorously from behind Alex as Slytherins sniggered at the stupidity of the boy. He was only too eager to condemn himself.

Draco however, looked confused. Harry thought it was the correct time to butt in. 'You challenged him to a duel, and instead of fighting bravely like you Gryffindors are supposed to do, you decide to ambush him with dungbombs in the trophy room? Remind me if I'm wrong, but that is not definition of bravery or courage, is it, Draco?'

Draco, who had now caught on to Harry's ploy, smirked in response, 'It most certainly is not, Harry.'

Weasel grew even redder by the second. Just when Alexander was about to retort, there was a yell from the staff table, and they saw Professor Potter striding up to a paling Alexander, looking enraged.

'ALEXANDER LILLIAN POTTER!', she yelled, ignoring the snickers from the other students at her son's unfortunate middle name, as his face's colour changed from white to red.

'Minerva just told me that not only were you, and your three friends were out of bed late at night, but just exactly where you were found! And you and your friends set off dungbombs in the Trophy Room! Shame on you!'

Alex shook his head, as did Weasley who had paled considerably at the sight of a furious Lily Potter.

'No, Mum… I didn't…,' he tried to explain himself but a glare from his mother shut him up.

'Quiet!'

'Now. Since you have already lost eighty points for Gryffindor for last night's adventure, you and your three friends will be serving a further two weeks detention with Mr. Filch!' Professor Potter finished with a glare at her son that brooked no opposition, even as all the three stated friends paled.

Hermione Granger almost looked like she was going to cry as Professor Potter left the Great Hall in a huff, but not without sending Alex a warning look. She paused, and looked at Harry for a second – which he promptly ignored – but left just as quickly.

Filch said something to Professor Snape, who nodded, sneering at the duo of Gryffindors who had trudged back to their table and sat down.

'Twenty points from Gryffindors for covering the entirety of the Trophy Room in exploded dungbombs, which you will be cleaning up, Potter,' Snape sneered.

'What?!' Alex yelled, growing red again. His mother was a different thing but he wasn't going to take this from his and his father's hated enemy.

Snape only smirked, looking forward to taking more points off Gryffindor, but it was quite impossible since they were already in negative.

'Potter, sit down, now!' Percy glared at Alex and his brother, who begrudgingly wilted and took their seats, among the furious Gryffindors, glaring at the four students but also at Percy Weasley, for some reason that Harry couldn't fathom.

Draco however, was over the moon. Absolutely ecstatic, for the rest of the day, if not the week. Naturally, he took the credit to the entire plot in the Slytherin common room and was heralded as a hero.

Harry spent the rest of the day, trying to ignore the inquisitive looks from one Blaise Zabini and occasionally from Tracey Davis. He didn't know what had changed, but clearly something had.

The rest of the week passed without further mischief from Alex and Weasley. Mercifully, even the Weasley twins had seemed to take it easy, seeing the position Gryffindor was in.

Percy was not like the rest of his brothers, he knew. His older brothers, Bill and Charlie were both brilliant and clever. While Bill excelled in countering the Dark Arts and curses, Charlie was an exceptional Seeker, but who chose to spend his life looking after dragons.

They were both always surrounded by friends wherever they went. Even now, in Egypt and Romania, both Bill and Charlie were quite popular with the ladies.

His immediate younger brothers, Fred and George had such ease of personality and the uncanny ability to make people laugh, revelling in their prankster ways which they used their intellect for, rather than study something useful.

Even Ronald, his other younger brother had found a true friend in Alexander Potter, ever since they were introduced to each other at seven years old. Percy didn't like the Boy-Who-Lived much and thought he was too arrogant and laid back, but since friendship with him made Ron and his mother happy, he put up with it. Indeed, even his sister, the only girl in the family had been enamoured with the boy ever since she was a child.

Like every other child in their world, Ginny too had grown up with the stories of the Boy-Who-Lived – mostly fictional stories written for children, but also the one that everyone knew. That Alexander Potter was the only one to ever survive the killing curse, deflecting it onto You-Know-Who, defeating him and putting an end to the dark days of war.

He knew very well what their mother wished, and had been telling Ginny secretly. Hell, even Bill knew it but they didn't dare interfere. The thought of risking their mother's wrath was not a pleasant one.

Percy though, wasn't particularly popular. Nor was he capable of making everyone laugh. The fifth year didn't even have very many friends, let alone a girlfriend though there was one curly blonde haired, fifth year girl who he thought was quite fetching but hadn't come up with the courage to talk to her, yet.

Perhaps he would write to Charlie and ask him for advice. He was loathed to ask anything from Fred and George. The next thing he knew, it would the gossip of the entire school, courtesy of the twins and their three chaser friends.

No, academics was the one thing that Percy had and it was the one thing that he strived his best to perform in. The one area where he was able to do better than the rest of his brothers. His reputation of rule abiding and learning was a well, and hard-earned one, and one that to his family, he had always had. And he liked it that way.

The rules were in place for a reason. They were to keep everyone safe and ensure that they were treated fairly. And if they weren't followed or enforced, then what did it leave but anarchy? Why have them in the first place if they weren't to be followed.

It was for this fact, and that he had the best grades in the school in fifth year, that Professor McGonagall chose him for Prefect. Well, it was a choice between him or Oliver Wood, who had been aghast at even being offered the position.

There was no way in the name of Morgana and Merlin, that he would allow anything to come between him and his precious quidditch. Honestly, the boy was obsessed with a game of chasing balls. And Percy had eagerly expected and accepted the honour.

And it was his rule abiding nature that prompted him to immediately alert Professor McGonagall when he heard Filch's yelling, the crashing of armours and the running of footsteps, during his patrol. And low and behold. What would they find on the very corridor forbidden by the headmaster, his idiotic brother and Potter!

Why had Granger and Longbottom decided to follow them for their stupid duel at midnight was something Percy couldn't quite fathom. So, the next few days weren't fun for him. He was being shunned by the rest of his house. And for what? Because he held up his duty and fulfilled his responsibility as a prefect?

It wasn't his fault that four first years were found out of bed on third floor corridor. Neither was it his fault that Gryffindor had lost a hundred and forty points within the week, putting them in negative numbers and it wasn't even Halloween yet. Of course, they were all quick to blame him. He wasn't the one who had snuck out at midnight. But seeing as the lions would never blame the precious golden child, the Potter's only son, despite the fact that there were two of them, Percy got the brunt of it. Stupid, moronic, idiots! He cursed a little more in his head, ones that he would never dream of uttering and went back to his Runes homework.

It was the second Friday of October and Harry was already scheming, again. Plotting was more like it. But this time, it had nothing to do with himself. Well, not really. It was really for the benefit of the entire school really.

Shame that they wouldn't be able to see it from his point of view. As such, after the day's class, he had gone to the Library and asked Madam Pince for the Hogwarts by-laws and was combing through the thick tome for anything that could be of use to him.

The two weeks hadn't gone well at all. No, he was being continuously hexed and jinxed in the corridors by Gryffindors, and he suspected, even some Slytherins, despite the unwritten rule of unity. Apparently, the rumour that he had attacked Professor Potter had made rounds despite the fact that neither Harry nor said Professor said anything and the Gryffindors didn't take it sitting down.

He suspected they were angrier about the hundred- and forty-point loss. This morning, his hair was a vivid shade pink. He ignored the guffaws of laughter as he walked the halls, knowing full well that it was dinner time but of course, he couldn't go to Great Hall unless he wanted to be embarrassed, which he did not.

The house had kept up their annoying habit of putting bags on empty spaces if he walked in to the Great Hall for meals. As such, it was during those days that he forwent going to the Great Hall altogether and had Sookie bring him his dinner or lunch.

That made him want to leak how exactly he had gotten Slytherin the hundred- and forty-point lead. Show them that the praise they heaped upon Draco, like Daffodil does, actually belonged to him. But he was quite certain that if it actually came out, the jinxing and hexing from Gryffindors would increase monumentally.

He grit his teeth in frustration at his inability to practise magic. Its not that he hadn't tried. He had, multiple times. But the damn spells wouldn't work for him. And he had no clue as to why not. The wand, as reluctant as it seemed to work for him, had chosen him after all, in Ollivander's shop. Even if it wasn't the Gregorovitch wand that Harry had wanted.

That was the only reason that Harry had to persevere through the bullying, all the while showing that it didn't affect him in the least. In truth, he hated Snape more and more because of it. Of course, he had become a frequent visitor of the hospital wing.

When he wasn't covered in painful boils, his teeth grew astonishingly quickly and had to be reduced by Madam Pomfrey, his nails somehow vanished quite painfully. He still didn't know what jinx that was. He would be sure to learn it when he did discover it. Even if his damn magic wouldn't work.

The only good thing was the amount of practice Harry had gotten in brewing his own potions. From boil cures, to strengthening potion when someone spiked his morning juice with weakening potions; to hair regrowth potions to pepperup potions. The latter two, he had asked Madam Pomfrey advice for.

As it is, Harry couldn't eat with the house during most meals as they had adapted to Harry's strategy of coming in early and as such, there weren't places left for him anymore.

He had found a nice isolated alcove on the corner of the second floor, with a sort of lawn. It was only present from lunch to six in the evening every day. As such, it wasn't a reprieve Harry could use for dinner. Really, the only time he could eat in the Great Hall was at breakfast, mostly because he got earlier than anybody else in the House for his morning runs. Sometimes, even at five in the morning.

Perhaps the most shocking proof of his unequal and unfair treatment in the school was at the hands of Professor McGonagall, for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. Had she somehow discovered that he had been the one to explode dungbombs in the trophy room? Or how he had gotten Alexander into trouble when the boy thought he had caught Neville's remembral?

No. That wasn't it. Now that he thought about it, her attitude towards him had existed ever since he was sorted into Slytherin. It was almost like Snape's attitude was to Alexander. He supposed it balanced it out, but it still rankled him deeply.

When he answered questions, she would never him give him points, even though some of his answers were more detailed than Grangers, who just memorised passages from the books. But she every time got rewarded with points for Gryffindor. More than once, she had had the audacity to deduct points when his answers were too Slytherin. Whatever that meant.

He wasn't blind to her subtle glares either. Especially since they weren't subtle at all. But her attitude had grown worse ever since he had blasted his mother across the Charms classroom. Perhaps that was the reason. Perhaps, she had expected, and wanted him to be in Gryffindor and was simply jealous that he wasn't.

More than once, over the last two weeks she had, no doubt for some need to embarrass him, had asked why he didn't come to lunch or dinner, much to snickering of other students.

He rounded the corner towards his alcove when he heard the voices. He recognised them immediately. His wretched parents.

'Your plan isn't working, James,' his mother, sounding somewhat annoyed. 'Harry is still in Slytherin!'

They were talking about to him. As quietly as he could, like a snake, he slithered into his alcove, putting his ear to the door and listening.

'It's not my plan, Lily-flower,' James sounded somewhat sheepish. 'It was Dumbledore's and even Sirius and Remus think it was a good one.'

'To hell with them!' she yelled. There was a banging sound. He assumed she either hexed him or slap the wall. Both amused him. 'They don't know him nor does Dumbledore.'

Neither do you, Harry thought. But what was this plan.

'Look. It's going to be Halloween soon and we'll invite him to our house. Or maybe we could introduce him to Sirius. They would like each other,' his father offered.

Harry felt anger burning in him. That was supposed to be his house too. But they had made sure it wasn't.

'You said that if Slytherin continued treating him like they are, he would come to us soon enough,' Lily sounded somewhat broken. 'He still hasn't. What if he's talking to… her!'

James growled, obviously angry. 'NO! No son of mine will be associating with death eaters!'

'I don't want him to either. But if our plan is to work, we need him to see us as his family,' she said, sounding tired. 'We need to do something.'

'Ohhh! I know, I know!' his father seemed almost excited. 'You could mentor him! That would solve all our problems!'

Harry didn't know what that meant but he didn't get to listen to it anymore as they had obviously moved away. Harry waited for a while, to make sure they were really gone when he summoned Sookie and asked her for dinner at his usual spot.

With that, he snuck out of the alcove and made his way to the white tree island, which he had decided to call Gondor.

He usually met the same boomslang and sometimes even some of its friends looking for an easy meal. He still had the condition that they not eat in front of him. He didn't want to throw up any food that he ate just because some snake had decided to swallow an entire rat at once.

Once safely away from the perpetual spying eyes of the public, he willed his to go back to his usual raven colour. Colour and style that was so like James Potter, if a little darker that he hated it. He hated everything that linked him to his parents.

His hair, his glasses, his green eyes, even his name. Harry! What a pathetic muggle name. A small nap was warranted as he lay on the ground, with his head under the trees shade. He had already fed the raven chick and had given it to Sookie, who would wake him up when it was time for him to go back to the castle.

He sighed disappointedly. His magical education wasn't going the way he planned. And he didn't know what he could do to fix it. Harry was relatively sure that Lily would help him figure it out if he asked her, if only to get him closer to the family. But after that slap that was so much like Aunt Petunia's, he would be damned if he went to her for help. Not even if she was the last teacher on earth.

No. He would write to Ollivander and Mia. They could help, probably. As usual, he awoke much later, but made no hurry to walk back to the common room. In his wanderings about the castle, Harry had discovered quite a few secret passageways around the school.

Although, he hadn't yet managed to find one that would give a him a shortcut to the Astronomy Tower, which was just about the furthest thing from the Slytherin common. On his way to the common room, he heard some interesting gossip.

Apparently, Draco had followed up on the remembral fiasco and broken the damn thing, albeit by 'accident' against a wall, leaving a tear strained and crying Neville Longbottom. It had happened sometime after dinner.

As soon as the students gossiping about the remembral saw him, they were quick to shut up and send him several death glares. Harry rolled his eyes. They would never use sense. It was no use expecting such of them. However, the reason Draco did that, wasn't clear to Harry.

What he did know however was that Draco must have taken revenge for something. A Slytherin never lets a slight go unanswered. No matter how small. That, he had realised, was also why his reputation was in tatters in Slytherin. They considered him weak.

Oh, he would show them! He would show all of them that he is not be trifled with. As soon as he learnt the mystery to his inability to cast spells that is. Over the last month and a half, Harry had cultivated his reputation as one of the smartest students in first years, albeit not very magically gifted. Though that one wasn't his fault.

The common room wasn't very full, as most Slytherins were still out, and it was quite a while till curfew. Going to the dorm, he found his newest school robes pressed and displayed on his bed, ready for him to wear when he shed the ones he had slept in on Gondor.

Harry wondered if he should write to Narcissa's husband in the same letter he was planning to send to her. Hmm. He would have to think about that. Which would be more proper? Of course. He couldn't have Draco learning about it earlier than he wanted him to. That would be catastrophic.

Harry snuck into the library using the hidden passageway under the painting of Agrippa, accessed from the other end via the Slytherin common room, and hid in the farthest corner of the library, hoping that Madam Pince would forget about him being there. Just as a precaution though, he slid back into the passageway near ten when the incessant woman would scour every inch of the library.

After ten minutes of staying in the darkened passageway, he slid back out into the library, ecstatic that he had figured out a way to stay in the library after hours. Spending another or so completing his transfiguration essay on the mutare spell, and when he was sufficient that it should get at least Exceeds Expectations, he left the library on the way to the astronomy tower.

Of course, he would never get anything more than Acceptable in transfiguration, he had come to realise. Professor McGonagall seems to have something against his grades as well. Hell, even Draco, whose essay he had requested to read, had gotten EE, even though Harry's was much better. And Draco hated Transfiguration with a passion. Harry was beginning to see why.

As he made crossed the third floor, wondering if he should investigate what exactly is in that corridor that made Professor Potter so mad that Alex had been in there. It must either something dangerous or important. And could use it himself? If Alexander had made it there, then Harry was sure he could do it too.

Harry jumped the disappearing step on instinct, having either missed it many times, or more likely been hit with a tripping hex by someone just as he neared one of these maniacal steps, that he had learnt all their locations by heart.

It was only just after eleven when he made his way to the seventh floor, crossing the empty corridor with the dancing trolls painting, wondering just what the curious magic was on the wall opposite it. He was almost certain there was something behind this wall. It held the same feeling as many of the classrooms that sometime ceased to exist, the same feeling as his alcove.

'Can I talk to a Hogwarts elf, please?' he asked to no one in particular, feeling decidedly foolish. People would obviously think him a loon if they see him standing in an empty corridor, speaking to thin air.

But his gamble paid off. Instantly, an elf dressed in a brown cloth appeared before him, 'What can Snokey be doing for master?'

Harry wondered if all house elves had such odd names but immediately banished the thought for an immediate curiosity, 'Can you tell me how to get into this room?'

Snokey looked at him with what he thought was suspicion before she replied, 'How do yous knows there be a room here?'

'I heard someone mention it,' Harry replied without a pause. He did feel a little bad about lying to the poor thing but he didn't want to reveal such a closely kept secret. The last thing he needed was for the entire school to start thinking he was a complete nutter or that they were right and he is dark.

'Walk three times like this and think about what yous want in the room,' Snokey replied, bowed and then promptly disappeared before he could answer her.

That was good to know. He did what she told him, thinking how he wanted a place to practise his magic in secret. On the third try, a large double door appeared on the wall. Not hesitating at all, but keeping his wand out nonetheless – which was useless because he knew virtually no offensive magic – he entered the room.

What he found inside almost vanished the air from within his lungs. The large room, almost resembling the entrance hall, contained several bookcases, cushions, armoured knights, dummies depicting wizards holding out sticks like wands, even some spare wands on a shelf.

Harry instantly felt a burst of excitement. He knew he couldn't spend much time in here and that he should really leave early lest someone see him leaving here. He didn't know how this worked however. He needed to know what this place can and can't do.

But on a cursory look, he saw that the shelves had a few objects: metal globes with ugly eyes, magnifying glasses, an aerial shaped object that he had no idea about, and what looked like a glass spinning top.

The first bookshelf contained books such as Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions, the Dark-Arts Outsmarted, Self-Defensive Spellwork, Jinxes for the Jinxed. All of which would be quite useful in his revenge against the culprit Gryffindors and Slytherins who thought they could get away with bullying him.

He wasn't the same boy who kept running from Dudley's gang and their Harry hunting. He wasn't the tiny, scrawny, boy who hid in bushes scared of bullies.

If his housemates thought that they could keep bullying him and not pay for it, they would quickly realise their folly, Harry vowed to himself as he exited the brilliant room and made his way up the Astronomy Tower.

Harry hadn't realised how long he had stayed in the room, perusing and reading but it looked like he had spent almost forty minutes or so.

'Potter?!' he looked to his left and saw Draco leading the Slytherins towards the outside of the classroom.

Harry briefly registered how Pansy was as usual on his right side while a Daphne, who was slightly scowling at the former, was at his left. Yes, something definitely was up with the girl.

'Draco,' but as he focused on Draco, he didn't see the surprise look on Daphne's face at seeing him already present. The surprise that was clear in Draco's voice.

'Where were you?' the blonde boy questioned, either not aware or not caring about Harry's narrowed eyes at his inquisition. 'You weren't in the common room or the dorm when he left?'

'Oh, so you looked for me,' Harry smirked at the momentary flustered look on his face. 'I was wandering the castle when I lost track of time.' He found no need to lie at this particular moment, and besides he had been doing it frighteningly often these days and it was starting to worry him somewhat.

This time, however, he did see the shocked look on the girls' faces as Draco yelled, 'What?! Have you no Slytherin pride. You're going to get caught and cost us points! Points that I got us!'

Harry resisted the urge to snarl at the idiot. 'Don't worry. I have my ways to avoiding it.'

Before any of the rest could make their own feelings known about the topic, the familiar rush of footsteps made themselves known to them and the Gryffindors hurried, as usual almost late.

Like Draco who had the Slytherins, it was Alexander leading the Gryffindors. Since when had they been elected as defacto leaders of the group. A traitorous voice answered inside him that while he had been too afraid to take a stand in his own house. But he squashed it down.

Staying out of the way had served him well all this time.

'Harry…,' there was something of an apprehension in Alexander's voice but before Harry could answer, the door to class opened up and a voice called from the inside. 'Come in.'

The Slytherins entered first, even though Alexander had tried to go in but was quickly pushed aside by Draco, who ignored the boy's and Weasel's mutterings.

Harry shrugged. He was in no great hurry and so he let everyone else pass before him, entering the class at the end and one glance showed him that that the Slytherins, as usual had paired up and left no place for him.

After so many weeks of the same attitude, he didn't let in affect him and made his way to the lone empty desk at the back.

To his shock and many that of many others, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws soon entered as well and took their seats. The four columns, where each of the houses sat, surrounded a large circular dais. The in the middle of the dais, was a raised metal column with a metal ball on top.

The astronomy hall delved into whispers and discussion. They had all heard the voice call out to them but the Professor was nowhere to be seen. But that to Harry was nothing new. After all, Ollivander does the same trick.

It was the odd feeling he was getting. And while everyone frequently looked towards the middle as they conversed with each other, Harry was trying to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from. It was most certainly not dais or the column. He didn't know how he knew it but he did. So, he tried looking at the perimeters of the hall.

She stood there, unseen by all the first years of Hogwarts, as she observed all of them cascade in, delving into discussion and whispers. Some made their curiosity clear, looking towards the raised dais and column. One of her own creation that she had brought along with her when she got the job. She had enchanted it herself.

This was the first time she had gotten a closer look at the children of the different houses and she had to admit, she was curious. Curious as to why they insisted on segregating young impressionable children into groups and tell them what their traits were.

It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Tell a child they can't be anything but brave or cunning; bookworm or loyal and hardworking and that is what they will grow to be. So, it made no sense to her, even when she had been told of Hogwarts by her family. Granted, she and her family were all directly descended from one of the first students of this ancient school, she still thought the practice… outdated.

Yet, having observed them all two weeks ago at dinner when she had been hired, and having conversed with the hat, she could see the sense of the sorting. While no child only has traits of one house and is more than likely, a combination of one or more, it is ultimately where they will be comfortable, and what is beneficial for the students, where they are placed.

Yes, the Gryffindors were loud and boisterous and perhaps the most obvious to those less intelligent of observant than her, it was the Slytherins that stood out more. Especially if one looks over the loudness of the students in red and gold trimmed cloaks.

The Slytherins, cunning as they were, continuously looked over the other students calculatedly, making their own observations, just as she was. Some, however, like the gorillas sitting behind the Malfoy heir, looked like they shouldn't belong in the house of the cunning and the ambitious, but a closer look showed her that Mr. Crabbe embodied the traits of the house more than Mr. Goyle.

The way his eyes flickered between the unfortunate pug looking girl, to the sleek blonde girl sitting on either side of Mr. Malfoy and the way his face adapted a look of stupidity after his calculated gaze seeks his target, showed her he belonged in that house after all.

The bushy haired Gryffindor on the other, she thought, should have belonged to Ravenclaw. Even now, the girl lectured those sitting near her on random facts she learnt about the Astronomy Tower from Hogwarts: A History.

According to the teachers, she was one of, if not the smartest student in first year, maybe even second year. The girls sitting near her however, the Indian looking girl, and the blonde girl who looked to be developing quicker for her age, seemed to not care about a thing their house mate said.

Both of those girls looked to be joined by their heads as they looked over the more attractive boys of all houses and seemed to be giggle every few seconds.

According to the resident Potion's Master however, the house of lions was a bunch of dunderheads who were more interested in quidditch and girls than studying. That, brought her gaze to the resident celebrity of the school.

Alexander Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Who hasn't heard of him? The only person, ever, in history, to have survived the Killing Curse. With no one knowing how.

Of course, two days after she was hired, she had attended the first staff meeting of the year, to discuss the students' progress and what their opinions were on the first years. She had of course, subtly asked his mother, the part time, Charms Professor, about it.

And the answer was as she expected. No one, from the magical core specialists in Istanbul to the Shamans in China or the experts – she scoffed at the thought - in the States, could find anything conclusive about the boy's powers and how he defeated the Dark Lord.

But as it happened, according to Minerva, the boy was good with transfiguration, the best in her class along with Granger. His best friend, the youngest Weasley however, was nothing remarkable. As it was, he was thoroughly unremarkable, according to Severus Snape. But she didn't take either of their opinions on board. She much preferred to make her own observations.

And therefore, the first test, to see their abilities in magic. She would have much preferred to teach something with a greater involvement of active magic, like Charms or Defence Against the Dark Arts but since this was the only opening, she had to take it.

And lo and behold. Only one person, in the entire hall, even realised that something odd was going on. The quiet boy at the back. According to all teachers, he was quite good with theory but ever since they had started practicing magic, his performance had gone down the drain. He was barely above Longbottom, who was hopeless with magic it seems.

According to Madam Pomfrey, the boy's Myrridian Index was barely above Longbottom's. Perhaps that was why he was so sensitive to the magical pulse she let out. But what use is being sensitive to magic when he could barely use it. Such a shame, she thought.

She was pleasantly surprised when the boy, after much looking around the room, locked his eyes on the exact spot where was she was standing, invisible.

Harry frowned. Something was definitely wrong with this hall. He didn't remember feeling like this the first time they came here, a month and a half ago. This time, he could swear he felt it. Like a wave. But a short one. And it was coming from the right-hand corner on the other side of the room.

He wasn't the only surprised, though for a different reason, when the teacher immediately appeared, as if from thin air, in the dais, near the column.

His first thought – horrifying as it was – was that she was gorgeous and looked to be in her late twenties, with beautiful olive skin, long, curly, dark hair, and big, brown eyes. She wore a flowing, long, sleeveless, maroon dress with sandals.

In short, she dressed as none of the Professors in the school. He couldn't help but compare her to his 'mother' wearing jeans and shirt. Like a muggle, he thought disgusted.

Harry didn't notice, but he was far from the only boy transfixed with the new Professor's beauty.

'Welcome, all,' she said, looking around at the new students. 'Your new Astronomy Professor, I am. Professor Cassia, you can call me.'

What an odd way of speaking. Though, not grammatically incorrect. He pushed those silly thoughts out of his head and focused his attention on her, as she explained how the classes would be held.

'Since there are seven years, hold classes for all houses together for each year, I will,' the woman, Cassia said.

It took a few seconds for Harry to translate that into normal speech in his head. It might have been his imagination, but she focused more on the Slytherins when she said her next words, 'Reported everything about me to your fathers and uncles, will be, aware of that, I am. To save you the trouble of gathering information, give you permission to ask questions about me in this first lesson, I do. Go on.'

Harry resisted the urge to chuckle at her calling out what the Slytherins most likely intended to do. She was hired yes, but right now, she was an unknown and as such, most pureblood houses would be wanting to know about her.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Granger's hand shot up in the air and the Professor called on her, 'Ms. Granger.'

Now that was surprising. She already knew the names. Was she debriefed on them all?

'Where are you from, Professor?' Granger asked, curiosity shining in her eyes. Harry had to admit, it was one he too wanted to know. All of the teachers here were English, yet she clearly was not.

'From Greece,' was her short reply.

Tracey then asked, 'What's your full name, Professor?'

Another way to ask if she was a pureblood or not. And the Professor caught onto that as well, if the slight narrowing of her eyes was anything to go by.

The Professor smirked, and curtseyed to the room at large, 'Qetsiyah of House LeFay.'

Harry didn't recognise the house but clearly many of the purebloods did. As did most Slytherins. Draco's head snapped up from his previous disinterested look with a sharp gasp. What was so special?

'I thought that line ended,' Draco said, somewhat insensitively. Harry frowned at the boy's rudeness. Daphne must have thought so too as she subtly nudged him with her elbow.

'It was not. Tried to end our family, Voldemort…,' she ignored the many gasps in the room and went on, 'And his scum, did. And failed.'

Harry was quickly growing to like her, just as most Slytherins adopted guarded looks. They clearly didn't.

Alexander adopted a look of admiration and shot a somewhat smug look towards Malfoy who scowled in response to her answer.

Granger, being ever ignorant of pureblood customs asked, 'So, you're a pureblood?'

'Pureblood, I am,' the Professor answered somewhat proudly.

Well, that was at least one, he supposed. Of all the teachers, he thought, only Professor Vector was a pureblood.

'When were you born?' asked Susan Bones, the somewhat pudgy redhead girl in Hufflepuff.

'Samhain of 1968,' Professor Cassia answered, smiling at the shocked look of Susan.

Harry smirked at the answer. Clearly this witch was one who took pride in her heritage and didn't adopt the foolish muggle customs of Halloween.

Which begs the question, how did Dumbledore hire her?

More questions, about her personal life, her favourite colour, her favourite food or candy, or if she had a boyfriend or not, were asked.

It was Alexander who asked the question. Harry noted that many girls scowled at the boy. Why was it so bad? He didn't understand?

Seemed like a perfectly logical question to him.

'No, I do not, Mr. Potter,' she answered, smiling sweetly at him, much to many of the girl's frowning. Harry thought Alexander was foolish to grin like an idiot. It's not like he would ever have a chance. And just like that, she destroyed Alexander's dreams which were just beginning to form, no doubt, making Harry like her even more. 'But betrothed, I am.'

Betrothed? Now that was shocking. He didn't know much about pureblood tradition but the practice of marriage contracts was an old one. It wasn't practiced by many families in England anymore. Not since Grindelwald's war.

So, her family was likely an old one. He wasn't the only one to come to that conclusion. Granger for some reason frowned at that answer.

'Where did you go to Hogwarts too, Professor?' Granger asked and he could see many of the others were interested as well.

'To Durmstrang Institute of Magic, I went,' Cassia answered. 'One of Europe's finest magical schools, it is.'

Now that got Harry's and Draco's attention. Durmstrang was where Grindelwald went as well. And that was where Draco wanted to go too. But Narcissa stopped him, not wanting him to live too far away. He remembered Draco telling that to them on the first night at the welcoming feast.

Granger immediately made a note of it on her muggle notebook. Harry rolled his eyes at the stupidity of such a smart girl. And she wonders why people didn't like muggleborns. That action didn't go unnoticed by the Professor either.

That immediately put a scowl on both Alexander's and Weasley's face, both of whom were leering at the new teacher. Disgusting bigots, Harry thought.

But what she said next, brought everyone's attention to her. Even those who were disinterested at first. 'A year's study at Durmstrang, to one of you, who manages to impress me, is what I offer. Let us begin.'

With that, the Grecian beauty flicked her hand and shut the door, shocking them all with the casual display of wandless magic. That, they might have chalked up to coincidence, but when she waved her hand again and dimmed every single lantern and light in the hall, they knew she was not one to messed up.

Harry grinned. Now she was one teacher who he would whole heatedly respect and follow. A week into Hogwarts, he had searched the entire Hogwarts curriculum to find out if they were ever taught wandless magic and there was not one mention of it.

Even dating as far back as five hundred years ago, when Hogwarts had a plethora of arcane courses, such as necromancy, they didn't have one on wandless magic. Now, more than ever, he was determined to impress her. But he could see, he wasn't the only one.

By the end of the two hours, Harry's head was swimming with information that the Professor seemingly effortlessly linked with history, with seers and divination and with other branches of magic such as Herbology and Potions, even spellwork.

He had to research on her background. There was no way a young woman as knowledgeable as her, on various aspects of magic, could have stayed away from the limelight, or the attention of her own ministry or even the dark lord.

Cassia explained how different alignments of planets affected certain spells. What alignments were significant in magic and history, and which ones affected which potions, giving examples of each. She even hinted at various rituals which were significantly affected by the movement of the planets.

That of course, elicited a plethora of questions about dark magic, especially from Gryffindor, which she answered as diplomatically as possible. There was no question in Harry's mind that she was indeed his favourite teacher, as everyone exited the astronomy hall and he stayed behind.

He could see his fellow housemates, looked at him suspiciously, but left the room nonetheless. He had no doubt they would be outside the door, listening for any useful information.

'A question you have, Mr. Potter?' she asked, smiling at him as she waved her hand and the door closed itself.

'Yes,' Harry replied, looking towards the closed door for a second. He didn't want others to know what he was asking.

She seemed to understand his predicament and answered, 'Worry not. Warded against eavesdropping it is.'

'Right,' Harry said, wondering how to word his request. She sat there, crossing one leg over the other and looked at him patiently, seemingly in no hurry. Deciding to abandon all subtlety, he asked, 'I request for you to take me as your mentee, Professor.'

She raised one dark eyebrow at him, and looked at him curiously. Her eyes seemingly boring into him. 'Heard of you I did, before coming here. How, do you know?'

Harry shook his head, confusedly. What has that got to do with anything. She must have. It was all splashed on the Daily Prophet. Brother of the Daily Prophet, sorted in Slytherin.

The Professor chuckled, 'No. Not from your rag of a newspaper.'

Harry spluttered despite all his efforts to not do so, 'What? Did you just…'

She smiled, 'Your mind is quite unprotected. Practically yelling, your thoughts, you are.'

That was not a comforting thought. He cursed himself for lacking in his occlumency exercises. 'The books Gregorovitch gave you, good they are. But not sufficient.'

Harry's eyes widened, his mouth gaping for a second. 'How did you know Professor?'

'To Gregorovitch's son, betrothed I am. Told me, he did,' she smirked at him. 'But disappointed in you, I am.'

'How? Why?' Harry demanded. This was not going the way he planned. Yes, she was meant to name her price but how had he disappointed her. He barely knew her.

'Ambition you have, yes. But work hard, you do not,' she replied bluntly, seemingly not caring about him bristling. 'In the lower quarter of your class, in charms and transfiguration you are. Near the top, your brother is. As is Ms. Granger.'

Harry bristled at the blunt revelation of his weakness. It was his sore spot. It wasn't his fault his magic failed to work most of time. What was he to do? And she was here, judging him and staring at him, like a hawk does its prey.

'I will…,' he tried to speak but was cut off as she rose.

'Fond of wasting my time, on incompetents, I am not,' she said striding towards the door. The message was clear. 'Waste your time worrying about house politics, you do. On practising and studying magic, not enough time, you spend.'

She opened the door, waiting for him to leave. Harry glared at the offensive door. No, he would not leave before he got what he wanted. 'I will work hard. Just tell me what you want me to do. Give me a chance to prove myself!'

Cassia narrowed her eyes at him, studying him like a puzzle.

'Please!' Harry hated begging but he also knew that she was the only one who could help him. He didn't know how, but he just knew.

She sighed. 'Once chance, you will get,' she then walked to her desk, grabbed a parchment and quill and scribbled something on it. 'In two weeks, a test you will have,' she handed him the parchment. 'Only one.'

With that, she ushered him out of the hall, leaving him in the darkened corridor. Harry looked down on the parchment. It only said two words, 'Reductor Curse.'

The first years weren't the only ones enamoured with the knowledgeable, gorgeous witch who now taught Astronomy. Multiple times, he had overheard the frankly quite rude thoughts of the older boys or how they girls were angry that their boyfriends leered at Professor LeFay.

According to Draco, apparently Qetsiyah LeFay was the only one came to close to breaking Grindelwald's record in Durmstrang. He didn't understand the grading system Draco only touched upon, but apparently, she was one of the smartest, most powerful students, to ever graduate from the prestigious school that focuses on martial magic.

That was also the reason that he desperately wanted her to be his mentor. He knew Snape would never, in a million years take him as his mentee nor would any of the older students in Slytherin.

Before she had made herself visible in the astronomy class, he had heard many of the students, not just Slytherins discussing the new mentor scheme that the staff were bringing to Hogwarts. Of course, no one had thought to inform him. Or maybe had just missed the meeting when he was sleeping on his island. Who knows?

Either way, the mentor scheme was just as it says. Every younger student would have an older student as mentor. Who gets whom, is dependent upon the mentor and mentee. It didn't have to be in their house either. A Slytherin could have a Ravenclaw as a mentor if both parties agree or any combination of houses.

Of course, obviously, the Slytherins were only choosing their mentors and mentee from within their own house. Whether this was because the other houses didn't want them, or because they only felt comfortable with fellow Slytherins, Harry didn't know. But he suspected it was the former.

The mentor would not only show them the ropes, but also help them in homework, essays, magic in general, or just lend a listening ear.

It went unsaid, that no one chose him as their mentee. Just as he had expected. They weren't even talking to him, most of the time, unless Blaise and Tracey sometimes made small talk counted. And he had given up hoping or trying.

Cassia was right, he realised, disgusted with himself. He had gotten so caught up in Slytherin's inhouse politics, or the competition or whatever he had with his brother, and what the rest of the school thought of him, that he had been slacking off in his studies.

That night, he had stewed and cursed her for this insult. But then, when he had calmed down, he took out all of his essays from September till two days ago, and it showed a disturbing pattern.

The first three weeks his grades had been solid, in all of the subjects except History of Magic, getting EE at least. He had even gotten Outstanding in one charms' essay and one potions essay. But from the fourth week, ever since they had started practical magic, his grades had steadily declined.

Of course, he wasn't oblivious to the fact before two nights ago, but he had thought it wasn't too bad. Still, he had asked Professor Flitwick, and Professor McGonagall for help and both had turned him down.

Flitwick claimed that if he was having problems, he should go to his mother who was teaching the Slytherins for the first time. Professor McGonagall had only told him to pay more attention in class, not be bogged down in jealousy to his brother and focus on the basics. What a load of bullshit!

Yes, he hated the fact that Alexander was better than him in both Charms and Transfiguration and likely in Defence as well. He didn't know that his jealousy was so obvious. But what in the hell was he supposed to do when his magic was so temperamental?

And that insufferable Granger, sending him smug looks every time in Charms when she did something he failed to do.

What could he do when he could lock and open a door but not levitate a bloody feather? How could his magic duplicate a remembral, albeit temporarily, but not turn a damn matchstick into a needle? It made no sense, and yet, that was his dilemma.

Just as he stewing on this dilemma, making notes on the Reductor Curse, from Standard Book of Spells, Grade four, he had found from the library, there was another meeting going on between Lily and James Potter near the oak tree on the grounds.

'James, he hasn't come to me, yet!' Lily said exasperatedly, pacing up and down in front of the tree, wearing the grass down.

'Are you sure Snivellus did what you asked him to?' James asked him wife, immediately flinching at the glare she sent him.

'Yes. Severus,' she emphasised, 'Told me he had talked to the older Slytherins. Only as a favour to me, even if he didn't agree with it.'

'Then it should only be a matter of time before he comes to you. But I still don't like it,' James grumbled. 'Our plan isn't working out.'

'My plan?!' his wife yelled, glad that there was a silencing charm on the area. 'MY plan!'

'Not yours. Mine and Albus' plan. We thought he would have changed his mind about Slytherin once he realised what a bunch of assholes they were and how the school hated him being a Slytherin! And he would ask to be in Gryffindor by now,' James said morosely, snatching the snitch out of the year and letting it go just as was his habit in school.

'Well that worked out brilliantly,' Lily answered sarcastically. 'Maybe… maybe if I… apologise…'

'No. You didn't do anything wrong!' James said, wide eyed. 'He's the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived! He can't talk to the Malfoys! We have a reputation to maintain.'

Lily grumbled, not knowing what to do anymore. They had thought when no one takes him as their mentor, and with his obvious troubles in magic, he would come to her for help. And then, they would subtly get him away from the other pureblood Slytherins and maybe introduce him to Alex's friends. That would have worked out well. What boy didn't want to have friends? Harry had no friends, she could see. But more troubling was the fact that even if he made potential friends, it was bound to be from Slytherins.

'What if he becomes a threat to Alex?' James said, and Lily sighed exasperatedly. They had had this discussion at least ten times.

'I told you, he can't,' Lily answered, her patience wearing thin. 'He can barely levitate a feather, James and he's in the lower quarter in both charms and transfiguration when Alex is first in Transfiguration and fourth in Charms!'

James nodded, conceding to her point. But what if, later, he becomes one. That was why it was essential that he ask to be Lily's mentee and be transferred into Gryffindor.

With that resolve, they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner, where undoubtedly, they would see that Slytherin wouldn't welcome Harry, again. It was only a matter of time before this shunning forced Harry into Gryffindor. All was well, he consoled himself.

Harry was making his way to his alcove as usual, when he bumped into quite literally with a girl, he had met two weeks ago. Or she bumped into him, nearly forcing them both on the ground.

'Wotcher, Harry!' she said brightly, her hair a bright shade of bubblegum pink. 'Got your hair back to normal, I see.'

'Hello, Nym…' he trailed off, seeing her dark glare, 'Tonks. Well, normal is relative, I think. But yes, back to the raven's nest.'

She laughed out loud, swinging an arm around his shoulders, 'I totally agree. Not that I don't like weird hairstyles, but your messy is hair is just awful.'

Harry slumped his shoulders, sadly. 'Another negative about being a Potter.'

Tonks, he had learnt was quite a blunt girl. She was a seventh year Hufflepuff who was brilliant at Transfiguration, or so he heard from the older Slytherins.

'So, where're you going?' she asked curiously, 'Dinner is that way,' she pointed towards the Great Hall.

'Uh, yes. You go ahead, I'll catch up,' he replied, not wanting her to know how pathetic he was that he had to hide and eat alone.

'No, you won't,' she replied, and seeing his questioning gaze, she added, 'I'm not the only one whose noticed you don't show up at meals anymore.'

Harry sighed. 'I eat alone. It's much easier that way.'

'That's just awful, Harry,' Tonks said, 'Come, sit with me on the Hufflepuff table.'

Unable to get the horrified look off his face, Harry replied, 'No, no. Tonks, thanks but umm.'

'What, is there something wrong with Hufflepuff?' Tonks asked with a raised eyebrow, her hands on her hips.

'No, not at all,' Harry wracked his brain for an excuse. 'It's just that I don't want to give the Slytherins any reason to think I've caved in.'

She narrowed her eyes at him, obviously not buying his lie but relented nonetheless. 'Fine. Let's go.'

'Umm. Okay…,' Harry said, and uncertainly followed the older girl towards the dungeons, getting more confused by the minute as they passed the entrance hall and turned right and downstairs.

They appeared in what he thought was the basement corridor, brightly lit and decorated with food paintings. He could clearly smell the delicious smells of dinner coming from somewhere nearby.

Tonks stopped in front of a painting of a fruit bowl and tickled the pear, which giggled and turned into a large green door handle. Tonks turned and pushed it open. 'Welcome to the Kitchens, Harry!'

Harry entered, mind boggled into the hall as large as the Great Hall, with four tables exactly where the house tables were, filled with what he thought were hundred of elves. Mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls and there was a great fireplace at the end.

Instantly, Harry was greeted by an enthusiastic Sookie. 'Master Harry has come to visit Sookie!'

Tonks looked curiously at him, clearly amused by the elf, 'Yes Sookie. Meet my friend, Tonks.'

Sookie immediately shook Tonks hand, eyes wide, 'Sookie be pleased to meet Master Harry's friend. Will Master and yous be wanting food?'

Harry nodded and said they wanted lunch. Immediately, the elf ushered them towards the nearest table, and like in the Great Hall, food instantly appeared in front of them. They both thanked Sookie and dived into their food.

Conversation was good as Tonks asked about Harry's classes and how he was finding Hogwarts in general and Harry asked about her quidditch, NEWTS and her family. Her mother, he had learnt two weeks ago, from the Daily Prophet, had filed for divorce from her father.

And weirdly, for some reason, Tonks was happy about it. And seeing it was quite a personal thing, he hadn't asked any further questions.

'So, how did you change your hair back?' Tonks asked, changing the subject for quidditch.

'Ummm. Just… a spell,' Harry answered vaguely. He didn't know what she would think about it.

'What spell? I know for a fact that 'finite' doesn't work on the twins' pranks,' she looked at him with that look she gets when she knows he's withholding something.

Cursing internally, he sighed. He had been hoping she didn't know that. 'What is it?' she asked. 'It can't be that bad? It was only a prank.'

Harry gulped, 'Okay. I want your word you won't disclose this information,' looking at her for any signs of deception.

'I swear,' she said, eyes locked onto him.

Harry picked up an empty shiny plate and looked at his reflection and focused on his hair. He had to concentrate a lot and for a couple of minutes but soon, it obeyed his will.

There was sharp gasp from the girl opposite him, looking at him with eyes wide. Great. She would think him a freak as well. The one friend he had managed to form. Then, much to his confusion, a grin stretched on her face, from ear to ear.

'Amazing,' she whispered and just like that, her hair changed colours from pink to the same as his dark green. 'You're a metaphor, like me! What else can you do?'. She scooted forwards excitedly.

'A metamorph?' Harry questioned, confused. 'That was the first time he had heard of it.'

'It's short for metamorphmagus, Harry,' she said exasperatedly. 'How did you not know that's what we are? It means that we can change our appearance at will.'

Ah. Harry already knew he could do that. 'But how do you become one?'

'You can't become one, Harry,' she said smiled. 'You need to be born one. It's incredibly rare! Of course, not as rare parseltongue or elementals but still very rare!'

Harry held his tongue about the parseltongue but he quickly forgot it in Tonks enthusiasm, 'That's great! Can you teach me, please?!'

'Well of course. You're the first one I've met other than me of course,' Tonks said and quickly rattled off all the books she had tried reading to work on her ability. 'But Harry, it's odd that you are one…'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked. He knew he was weird, and had been for a long time.

'Well… the Potters have never had Metamorphmagus in their bloodlines. It's normally a…. of course! It all makes sense now!', she exclaimed.

Harry had no idea what she had just realised. 'So, specific abilities are in specific bloodlines?'

'Well, yes of course. There are some that randomly come up in a few centuries but generally speaking, abilities such as these stay within the families. That is one of the reasons why purebloods are so insistent on keeping their bloodlines pure. There is some evidence that mixing of muggle blood with pureblood stops these abilities from expressing,' she replied, still looking at him as if he was a puzzle.

'But, then, how did I get it?' Harry asked, confused. 'I am a half-blood.'

'So am I,' she replied. But for a second, he thought he saw a shadow in her eyes but he must have imagined it. 'My mother was born a Black, although she was disowned when she married my father. And your grandmother was a Black as well. My mother's aunt Dorea. Neither of them had the ability but the Blacks have produced Metamorphs before, my mother told me.'

'And what about parseltongue, and the other one you said… elementals?' Harry asked curiously. Did that mean that parseltongue was a Potter ability or Blacks.

'Well those are more complicated and even rarer. The last known parselmouth was obviously You-Know-Who. They're said to be descended from Salazar Slytherin but he couldn't have been the only one who spoke it, since we know that Herpo the Foul was a parselmouth as well. It's a fairly useless one, honestly,' she replied, seemingly thinking something over.

'And elementals,' Harry asked, never having heard of them either.

'Now that is more interesting. Elementals were known to have unnatural control over one element. Either fire, water, earth or air. There isn't much known about them or how they control their magic but maybe you should ask Professor LeFay,' Tonks replied. 'I don't know much about them honestly.'

'Why her?' Harry asked. 'Why would she know?'

'Do you know who she is, Harry?' Tonks asked with a raised eyebrow.

'No. Just a pureblood,' he replied, not wanting to sound too much of an idiot.

She laughed, 'Oh boy. You are so wrong. There was a reason that You-Know-Who tried to kill all the LeFays. But I won't tell you everything. You need to find out something on your own afterward.'

Harry groaned at the unfairness and badgered her some more as they left the kitchen and towards the Great Hall. But she steadfastly refused, and left, but not before promising to help him with his metamorph abilities.

Having changed his hair back to black, Harry strode into the Great Hall, dinner having winded up and the students starting to leave. It was time to get his plan into action.

'Mother. What are you doing here?' he heard Draco ask, clearly surprised, as was Harry.

Turning towards the Slytherin table, he saw Narcissa Malfoy, in an expensive looking black dress, striding regally up to her son. 'Draco, how are you, darling,' she hugged her son, much to his embarrassment as he tried to get out of immediately, much to the snickering of the Slytherins and nearby Hufflepuffs.

'I came by for a meeting of the board of governors and thought I should bring you and your friends some sweets,' Narcissa replied, handing over a decent sized box, much like the ones she regularly mails over to her son.

'Thanks, Mother,' Draco replied, immediately opening the box.

And to Harry's great surprise, Narcissa turned to him. 'Harry, how are you?'

He heard the gasps from several students, mostly Slytherins even some of the staff members. What was she planning? Surely, she would have some scheme. She never called him Harry. Why do it in public?

From the corner of his eyes, he could see his parents rising and the Slytherins looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

Walking confidently up to her, 'Mrs. Malfoy,' he took her slightly outstretched hand, bowed and kissed the gloved knuckles. 'I am very well. How are you?'

'Fabulous, darling,' she replied, and he managed to keep his suspicion out of his countenance. 'And I thought I told you before to call me Aunt Cissa. We are family, after all.'

Harry nodded. She had asked him that. 'Aunt Cissa,' Harry nodded, letting go of her hand. 'I must say, you look beautiful.'

Harry had read in the traditions book to complement women when meeting them, but in this case, it was true. She looked resplendent. But then, with a startle, he realised, he recognised this dress. Hoping beyond hope, she would say nothing about it. He couldn't stand the embarrassment.

Narcissa laughed, 'As beautiful as darling Daffodil?' she asked with a smirk, making people look from her to Daphne. Harry coughed, very much aware of Daphne's death glare from the corner of his eye and his precarious position. 'More, I admit.'

'What a flatterer,' she said, smirk never leaving her face.

Just then they were joined by his parents, although the headmaster and deputy headmistress, both of whose eyes were trained on them stayed on the head table.

Harry realised this could get very ugly very quickly, remembering the debacle at the train station. He wracked his brain to think of any excuse to divert the impending disaster.

'Narcissa,' James Potter all but growled at the woman, just as Lily slipped her hand in his, trying to keep him calm, no doubt. Her eyes however, looked from Harry to the woman she had forbidden him to speak to, two weeks ago.

'Lord Potter,' Narcissa drawled, very much like her son. 'Or should I say, Mr. Potter.'

He could see James bristle in anger at that comment but unable to reply. Harry looked on in amazement. How had she done that?

'Now tell me, Harry. How are you finding Slytherin,' she asked, very clearly aware of the eyes many had locked onto the pair, including the gaping mouth of her son. 'Settling in all right?'

From the corner of his eyes, he could see James Potter sizzling in anger, just as Lily Potter held him down. This should be interesting.

'I couldn't have asked for a better house, nor one that complements my personality so well,' Harry answered, well aware that Draco would have told her how he was doing in the house. But he would be damned if he made a fool of himself in public, just like it was no doubt her plan that his father does.

'Oh please!' James forcefully removed his hand from his wife's. 'The slimy snakes don't even let you sit with them and when you do sit here, no one sits with you!', he snapped.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the blunt truth, well aware that Narcissa was looking at him. From behind James and Lily, he saw Professor McGonagall striding up to them quickly. 'Yes. Only because they know how I prefer to eat alone and they respect it. Something I doubt you would know anything about.'

Harry didn't see the shocked looks of the Slytherins or the surprised looks of the others at his brazen, outright lie. But they couldn't object to it since they had no proof. The Slytherins might very well respect his need for privacy. Never had he thanked Slytherins need to keep secrets in the house, so much.

'Harry, I must thank you for this lovely dress,' Narcissa changed the subject to an even more uncomfortable one and he swore she was finding this enjoyable. 'And commend you on your taste, but you did not have to spend so much money, darling.'

James spluttered incoherently, looking at his son like he had asked for his kidney while Lily and Professor McGonagall looked on in surprise.

He didn't see Pansy or any of the other girls in Slytherins looking at him in surprise, as if they didn't know who he even was.

Harry refused to show weakness. He hated politicking and that was not why he had bought her the dress. But if she wanted to test him, fine. He would play. Slapping on a charming smile, 'Well, I wanted to thank you for all your help that day in Twilfitt and Tattings and reintroducing me to our world.'

There was a flash of something in her eyes. Something… mischievous. He had seen the same look in Tonks' eyes when she wanted to tease him and it didn't bode well for him. 'Nonsense, darling. It was a travesty that you were forced to live with muggles, I simply had to correct it. Just like Aunt Dorea would have wanted me to,' she said the last bit looking at his father.

'What?!' James spluttered even more as both the other women's eyes flashed dangerously.

'And I bought you a gift,' Narcissa continued, shocking the others even more. Harry was thoroughly enjoying it.

'A gift? Aunt Cissa, you needn't have,' Harry replied, and this time truthfully. She had already given me too much. 'You've already given me Sookie.'

She shook her head, 'Nonsense. That wasn't a gift, darling. You bought the elf. I've got a gift for your sorting just like Draco. Being in Slytherin is a big deal.' She handed him a wrapped thin package, and a rolled parchment, with a seal of DMLE on it, which James immediately recognised.

'May I ask what it is?' Harry said, not wanting to open it up here in front of everyone and keeping it away from his glaring father.

'It's an Auror grade, self-summoning, wand holster,' Narcissa said haughtily.

'That's illegal!' James snapped. 'You can't give him that!', he tried to take it away from Harry only for him to put it out of his father's reach. 'Even Alexander doesn't have it!' James pointed to his son on the Gryffindor table who was also, like his father, fuming, quite visibly.

'Along with a license signed by Rufus Scrimgeour, your boss. In the name of one Hadrian James Potter,' she added smugly. 'So, you see, it is not illegal anymore.'

Harry smirked at his father's nostrils flaring. He had to admit, Narcissa Malfoy was the embodiment of all that was Slytherin. It was a wonder how her son was such an idiot. 'Thank you, Aunt Cissy.'

'Don't mention it, Harry,' she replied, 'Think of it as a late birthday gift.'

'Hem hem…,' Professor McGonagall coughed. 'Narcissa, don't we have a meeting to get to?'

'Yes, quite right Minerva. It should be starting soon,' Narcissa replied, and much to the shock of everyone else witnessing the momentous event, she placed her hand in the crook of Harry's elbow, 'Harry will escort me there, won't you.'

'Certainly,' he replied. This dovetailed quite nicely into what he had planned. 'It would be my pleasure.'

'You will not!' James snapped at him, only get a raised eyebrow from his son and Narcissa.

'Harry…' his mother said. Why, he had no idea.

'I must object, Mr. Potter. Students are not allowed in the meeting of the board of governors,' Professor McGonagall said, looking at Harry disappointedly.

Narcissa said, 'In this case, Minerva, he is. Seeing as this meeting was called precisely because Harry here requested it. It seems he has a proposal for the board, one which I am quite anxious to hear.'

All three adults looked at him in shock as did the other students. No student had ever had the gall to call a meeting of the board of governors.

'You did?' James asked, looking from his son to Narcissa Malfoy.

'Yes, now if you excuse, we ought not to be late,' Harry replied, walking towards the other end of the Great Hall, with Narcissa Malfoy on his arm - however weird the sight looked – ignoring all eyes on them, no matter how hard his heart was beating.

Five minutes later, following behind Professor McGonagall, they came to up an antechamber, with a large mahogany table in the middle in front of exquisite hearth, with several members already seated.

Harry may know the names of the thirteen governors, as he had memorised the list provided by Narcissa earlier, but he didn't know the faces of all of them. Trying to ignore his sweaty palms, and keeping his face as straight as possible, he pulled out the chair for Narcissa, much to her pleasure and the others' surprise.

Impressions were important. Especially to old purebloods. Seeing as they were all there, Harry gave one short bow to the table at large, and then took his seat.

'Well then, since we're all here, I, Griselda Marchbanks, call this first meeting of the academic Year 1991 – 1992 of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to order,' said an ancient looking witch, with great wrinkly skin, wearing what looked like a fur coat.

As Harry had expected, the meeting began with the various issues of the school, lack of funding, school quidditch brooms, prefects chosen etc and how much each family was giving to the Orphan fund this year.

After what seemed like an hour, attention turned to him. 'Mr. Potter,' said the witch he had seen with Neville on the train station. He cursed himself for his part in the remembral fiasco. 'I gather you have something to say to the board.'

All eyes, mostly ancient, turned towards him as he stood, 'Yes, Madam Longbottom,' Harry replied, keeping his head eye and refusing to show weakness at the scrutiny of the governors. 'I am aware of the hard work that must go into maintaining this school and its standard as the best magical school in Europe. But I hoped to raise the issue of inadequate teachers that are being hired in the past few years. I do not like to point it out, but for the students and their families to pay so much, and then be short-changed in two major subjects, is not only a travesty but is also unfair.'

He could see various governors bristled at his truthful assessment, especially Professor McGonagall. 'What substandard teachers, Mr. Potter. Perhaps, the problem is in you and not the teachers? Have you thought of that?'

Harry refused to fall for the trap. 'Indeed, I have. And yes, my grades haven't been the best this year. But I speak not only of myself, but of the majority of the school. Here,' he handed a parchment to Narcissa, 'You will find signatures and names of many of the older students, particularly those in OWL and NEWT years who also agree with me of the inadequacy of the Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic teachers.'

Narcissa copied the parchment and with a flick of her wand, sent one copy to each governor.

'Here,' Harry gave her another parchment, 'is a compiled list of grades of OWLs and NEWTs from 1950s to 1970s when Professor Binns taught. And from 1970s to now, a list of the grades of Defence and History of Magic. This clearly shows a decline in the number of OWLS of Acceptable and EE or above, by 40% since the 1950s. This was compiled from both Hogwarts Library and the public record from Ministry of Magic.'

He could see that this was indeed shocking to the governors as they perused the two revelations.

'And even if we ignore this startling decline, we cannot ignore the serious issue of the young wizarding population not knowing any of our recent history, the wizarding wars and their causes, from Grindelwald to Voldemort.

Or knowing our own history as magicals, our conflicts with muggles before the Statute of Secrecy, or even the reasons of Statute of Secrecy to come into place. Or why he must not forget our roots, our heritage, our traditions or customs. Why the Sacred-Twenty insist of keeping their bloodline pure? Or who even the sacred-twenty-eight are?'

Harry gave yet another parchment to Narcissa, which was also copied and distributed, 'I took the liberty of asking the school's population several short questions.' In this he lied a little. In truth, he had done some, Tonks and her friends helped with the upper years and his secret alliance with a Slytherin and Gryffindor fifth year helped him too.

'The first question was about Samhain. What it was? Why is it celebrated and its history? In Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, 80% had no idea, nor did they wish to find out. Of those 80%, 55% were half-bloods or had at least one, muggle or muggle-born parent, 20% were muggleborn and 5% were purebloods.

In Ravenclaw, 50% had no idea but all were willing to learn, 40% were half-bloods and 10% muggleborn. The only house which came out smelling like roses, across all questions about wizarding heritage, customs, and history, was Slytherin. About Samhain, as an example, 90% knew what is was and its history. 5% knew what it was but not the history and 5% didn't know.'

He didn't need to see their faces to see how shocked they were. It was clear from their gasps or winces, as he relayed results from their own Hogwarts house or where they're children are sorted into.

'And that is just from this year. I imagine it was similar previous years as well, seeing as all Binns does is drone on about goblins and giants to sleeping children. That is not what we need. We, our children, are forgetting our own history, our own heritage and what makes us special. Without it, we might as well be muggles with wands.'

Having finished his speech, and his revelations, he sat down, waiting for the discussion between the governors to come to a conclusion. There was something in the way Narcissa was watching him. A shrewdness, he couldn't place.

'Mr. Potter, while this is all very startling and a great cause of concern, it is also slightly impractical to rectify,' said Augusta Longbottom. 'Allow me to point out a few obvious problems,' she added, seeing his confused look. 'Firstly, no Defence teacher sticks around more than a year. If they do not suffer some horrendous accident, like last year's Professor blew off his own foot or the year before that when she suffered permanent transfiguration disfigurement, they simply resign or are useless to begin with. On the subject of Binns, we readily agree with you and have taken this concern to the headmaster, but he simply refuses to give the post to someone else.'

'Reason?' Harry asked, shocked at the headmaster's attitude towards one of the most important subjects they could take.

'Not enough funding,' Narcissa replied. 'That is Dumbledore's answer every time, Mr. Potter.'

Harry considered this and he had a solution but it needed to played carefully. 'Then I believe I have a proposal?'

'Oh… we're all ears,' said one ancient looking wizard in silk robes. 'This should be interesting.'

Several people chuckled at what they thought was Harry's attempt at looking important. Let them. They will see that he was indeed correct.

He looked to Narcissa, and she nodded encouragingly. 'There are 350 students this school year. I know, I had the students in each house counted.'

'How did you manage this, Mr. Potter?' asked Professor McGonagall, quite shocked that this child had managed not just the counting, but also the data collection.

'By forming alliances, Professor,' Harry replied cryptically at the deputy headmistress who he disliked quite a lot.

'With who?' she asked, clearly not willing to let this go.

Harry sighed, 'Nymphadora Tonks in Hufflepuff, Percy Weasley in Gryffindor, Penelope Clearwater in Ravenclaw and Vinda Rosier in Slytherin.'

There was a booming laugh from the other side of the table from a particularly distinguished looking, old man who looked to be in his sixties. 'Very Slytherin of you, boy.'

Narcissa too looked like she was impressed.

'Thank you,' Harry replied, glad for his compliment.

Professor McGonagall however, did not look pleased at this. Who cares?

'Go on, boy. Tell us this scheme of yours,' the same man said. 'I am quite anxious to know how you plan to get our children back on track from this muggle nonsense, though I doubt it will work.'

'Nott!' McGonagall glared at the man but he ignored it.

Harry smirked, liking this man more and more.

'As I said, there are three hundred and fifty children in school now. How much does the school pay a teacher, annually?' he asked, not wanting to sound presumptuous with his calculations without knowing the expenses.

'Fifteen thousand galleons after deducting their board and food, for a normal teacher. 20,000 for one with a Mastery in said subject,' answered Professor McGonagall.

Harry nodded, doing the calculations in his head. He had always been good at math. 'And how is this compared to other schools?'

This time, it was Narcissa who answered, 'More than Durmstrang, but less than Beauxbatons. But then again, they do make more money and have a larger student body.'

'And how many orphans are there?' he asked, not wanting to extort money from them especially since they were getting substandard Defence education.

'20,' Professor McGonagall replied, her face still taut.

'Then that makes 330 paying students. My proposal is this. We increase each student's fees by forty galleons. That makes 13,200 galleons' Harry did the calculation roughly in his head.

'That's still not enough,' said Griselda Marchbanks, not looking impressed. In fact, she looked thoroughly unimpressed.

He hoped Tonks would not mind he used the information he fished from her in such a way. Or he might actually lose the only friend he's got.

'I know. But if we keep Binns, only halve his twice a week double periods to twice a week single periods, and give the rest to the new teacher, we can pay her less since she'll be teaching less and sharing the subject with Binns, who isn't paid anyway. Let's say, 12,000 galleons, that would leave, 1,200 galleons surplus which can go to the Orphan fund.'

The old man on the other side was looking at him shrewdly, just like Narcissa was a while ago. 'What of the families out of those 330, who can't afford to pay the extra forty galleons.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. The man was trapping him somehow. He just didn't know how. 'If there are any, I will for the 20% of those families, the rest can be taken out of the Orphan Fund. Let's say, for example, there are 10 who can't pay the extra forty. Of those ten, I will for two. Which means eighty galleons.'

He could see that Professor McGonagall was about to say something and from the looks of it, it wasn't going to be beneficial to what he was trying to do here. It seems Narcissa saw this too and added, 'Of the remaining 80%, House Malfoy will pay for 40%.'

Harry nodded to her, thanking her silently. She didn't know why she was doing her but he was grateful nonetheless.

'What do you get out of this, boy?' asked the old man, Nott. 'There must be something you want, otherwise you wouldn't be paying for it from your pocket, when you can clearly hire a private tutor?'

Harry smirked at the man, 'Maybe I just want a good History of Magic education and care deeply for my fellow students to get the same.'

Damn, this man was clever. Harry had hoped this wouldn't come up till the end.

Griselda snorted, 'Please. You're a Slytherin through and through! There has to be something you're getting out of this.'

Harry narrowed his eyes at the old hag, 'I'm not entirely sure what you're suggesting.'

She scoffed, 'And I'm entirely sure you're entirely sure of what I'm suggesting.'

Professor McGonagall didn't look at all happy where this was going. 'I must object!' It seemed that she had had enough. 'It is the power of the headmaster and deputy headmistress to decide who to hire. Not the board and certainly, not a first-year student, even if you are paying partially from own vault. Which I am sure, neither James nor Lily would approve of.'

It was Narcissa who came to his aid, 'Minerva. If the esteemed headmaster and the deputy headmistress could have solved this problem, I have no doubt that they would have done so, by now.'

'You are indulging the boy…,' Professor McGonagall started but was soon cut off by Nott.

'We are not indulging him. We are listening to a proposal by a skilful negotiator. Go on boy, I'm sensing you already have a teacher in mind. Is it your own mother?' he sneered.

Professor McGonagall looked sharply at him and then, at Harry. Was she hopeful that he did indeed have Lily Potter in mind? Well, tough luck.

Harry scoffed, 'Certainly not. Ignoring the fact that she is a muggleborn and that she either doesn't know of wizarding tradition and customs or doesn't respect them and seeing as she dresses in muggle jeans and shirts in class rather than proper robes, she is hardly qualified for the subject.'

McGonagall looked incensed at this, and just as she was about to retort, Augusta Longbottom said, 'Then what do you have in mind?'

'If the board agrees to this scheme, and I will pay for 20 maybe 25% of the families who can't afford the extra forty galleons, per child. In return, the board will hire the teacher I have in mind,' he said, looking intently at the other governors who nodded their agreement. Time to spring it on them, 'And… I will be given the seat on the board of governors belonging to my grandfather Charlus Potter.'

Immediately, silence ensued in the hall. A pin drop could be heard. And then, chaos. All around them, they argued and debated this most unprecedented act.

All the while, he stood unflinchingly. It was all or nothing. He knew that they knew if they didn't agree to it, he would rescind his most generous offer of paying for 25% of the low-income families and so he wasn't worried. Besides, he still had an ace in the hole.

'Mr. Potter,' Professor McGonagall stood, 'This is not to be done! You are a child!'

'I hate to say, but Minerva is correct. We can't in good conscience give you a seat on the board!' said Augusta Longbottom. 'You are a minor.'

'Why not, Madam Longbottom. I am a minor yes, but there is precedence for it,' he looked at her and her eyes widened immediately as she realised what he said. Augusta Longbottom, he had learned when researching the board of governors of Hogwarts, had taken the traditional Fawley seat when she was sixteen when her father died and her mother gave it up to her.

After much deliberation, where Professor McGonagall made every argument not to go in favour of this, both as deputy headmistress, and saying that this would put undue stress on him and Narcissa supporting him that she would teach him as much as needed.

At the end, however, Nott said, 'On one condition.'

'What might that be?' he asked, hoping they didn't ask for more contribution. He wasn't made of money.

'You will only be given the seat on the board, if and only if, the teacher you have in mind is agreeable to us,' the man replied.

Narcissa had a remarkable poker face on. Given that she did not know who his candidate was.

'I believe you will agree on her,' Harry replied smirking at the man and knowing that he would appreciate this. 'She is, after all, a pureblood from an old house. And she is here.'

'Who, boy?' Nott said, eyes narrowed.

'Sookie, bring her in,' he ordered and instantly the elf appeared and scuttled towards the door and opening it. Narcissa gasped as did the others when she saw her own sister walk in, looking every bit as the Black she was, haughty pose perfected.

'May I present, Lady Andromeda Black,' he emphasised the last name, looking at the surprised faces of the governors. 'She has already agreed to the terms and her salary.' Nott looked at her, then Narcissa and then him, and then back, and burst out laughing. 'Well done, boy! I must say, you are a credit to our house!'

'I daresay he is,' Narcissa agreed, smiling at him. McGonagall however, looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

Two days later, courtesy of Daily Prophet, and Narcissa having told Draco, the whole school had learnt of Andromeda Black, going from being shunned by the pureblood society, to being hired by the pure-blooded school governors as History of Magic Professor, despite this not being the decision of the headmaster and the deputy headmistress.

To the students however, this meant that Harry Potter, not only had a teacher favourable to him on staff, much like Snape was to Draco, but also considerable power, as a member of the board of governors, despite being a first year. Even if, Andromeda would never show favouritism to him.

He had however, suffered quite a lot, at the hands of an irate Nymphadora, who had accused him of scheming behind her back and hiring her mother without even telling her. Of course, it didn't help that what she had said was quite true. It took Nymphadora a week to even talk to him without hexing him.

To him, however, his scheme was entirely different. He was over the moon. Not only had he not been found out, no one even had a clue as to his real intentions. He couldn't give a rat's arse if the muggleborns or half-bloods learnt wizarding history or not.

No, his plan all along had been to get a proper pureblood, raised among the old families, to tutor him in pureblood tradition and customs. He had quickly realised that learning from books was next to nothing, compared to learning from an actual pureblood. And if said pureblood had been a Slytherin, then all the better.

Lo and behold, when he read the article about Tonk's mother divorcing her husband, and her plans to look for a job, Harry had needed to act quickly. Getting permission from Snape to request a meeting from the governors had been tricky but after weeks of pestering him, he had succeeded.

As only with the permission of the head of house, can a student request the board. Getting a seat on the board had only been a bonus he had thought of later.

And so, merely after two days of Andromeda Black being hired, Harry was getting private lessons from her on etiquette, discretely, despite her not having started regular classes.

The only thing that could have made him happier was the mentorship with Cassia, but that was still in process. His wand, was being temperamental as usual. He had to get rid of it. But he had to find a way how to do it, without raising suspicion.

Of course, when did things ever go right in his life. He was positive someone was scheming against him. Not only had most of the school blamed him for increased fees rather than thank him for a decent History teacher, one of his most closely guarded secret had somehow become public knowledge.

Three days after the board meeting, he was the subject of whispers, sneers and not a few glares, even more than before. Harry hadn't realised what had gone disastrously wrong, as some of the people had started acting halfway decent to him, now he was actively shunned by the Slytherins.

Harry's and Narcissa's meeting as aunt and nephew at gone on a long way in lessening some of the stigma he was facing as a Potter, light sided member in Slytherin.

But then the news of his being nearer to a squib status than he would like, above Longbottom, had made rounds of the hallways. Even his Myrridian Index number, a measley 45, a power level for witches and wizards, which was only known to Madam Pomfrey had been leaked.

He had been more furious than ever in his life and barely stopped physically attacking the few Gryffindors who had called him filch junior or the next caretaker or the various other heckles.

Not for the first time, he cursed Voldemort for ruining his life. Whenever he tried to improve his life by even the tiniest amount, he was right back to where he started. Or worse.

Given how angry his family were at his acquaintance with Narcissa, and then subsequent board seat and hiring of Andromeda Black, a pureblood from a dark family, he was almost certain that they were the cause of his most recent embarrassment.

He would have his vengeance, he swore. For making him the laughing stock of the school. Right now, even though he was learning pureblood etiquette, he was lower than the muggleborns. Barely above muggles.

Every single student in his year had gotten a mentorship with an older student or a teacher. Tracey was a mentee for Cassius Warrington, friend of her older brother, Daphne for Grace Weitt and others had similar fifth- or sixth-year mentors. All, except him. Who in their right mind would want a near squib as a mentee.

Curiously, Cassia LeFay cared not about the most recent revelation when he had, worryingly asked her. She merely informed him that she was already aware of his predicament when she agreed to test him in the first place.

Now, he had vowed to not involve himself in house or school politics and show everyone their folly. He needed a better wand. But he couldn't just throw away his wand. He was lucky one chose him as it is, with being almost a squib and whatnot. But then, an opportunity showed itself.

One day at breakfast, after he had received a parcel of sweets from Narcissa, an unfamiliar eagle owl had dropped in front of them. His heart had raced the moment he saw that the letter was Mia Gregorovitch.

A plot formed in his head. But it would take a huge amount of risk. Who was easiest to anger? he wondered as they left Binn's class that afternoon. The last class of the day.

So, lost in thought he was that he didn't see Ron Weasley getting out in front of him, next to Alexander and bumped straight into him.

'What the hell…,' Weasel cursed and whirled.

Harry quickly did damage control, 'Hey, watch where you're going, Weasel,' or tried to anyway.

'WHAT?!' he yelled, his ears getting red. 'You're are the one who bumped into me!'

'Yes, Hadrian!' Alexander decided to butt in. 'You should see where you're going!'

He was a little impressed that the idiot had managed to remember his name.

'Only because you decided to stop suddenly,' Harry sneered at them both. 'Weasel, has your very limited intelligence dropped even lower that you don't even know what happens when you abruptly stop when there were people walking behind you.'

Weasley spluttered, getting redder than before as Alexander glared at his brother.

'You tell him, Potter,' Draco egged from the side. Harry rolled his eyes. Trust the conniving moron to try and play both sides against each other for his entertainment. But Harry smirked nonetheless at quite Slytherin-ness of him. He may be a moron, but he certainly embodies the house's traits.

'So, these are your friends huh!' Weasel growled pointing at Draco. 'A bunch of stinking Slytherins. I bet you get along just fine with them with all practising the dark arts together!'

'And get matching dark arts tattoos while you're at it!' Alex backed him up, sneering at Harry.

Harry smirked, 'Oh. Really… That's rich, coming from the boy whose wand is the brother to Voldemort's.'

The surrounding students gasped in shock, looking at Alexander, who was paling by the second. Someone even mentioned 'dark wizard' under their breath but it was clearly heard in the silence.

Alex growled, taking out his wand, 'Why you? Filthy squib, I'll show you…'

Harry didn't overly concern himself, seeing who was coming near them. He couldn't see him, but he felt him nonetheless. Again, he had no idea how. 'Oh look. That's Voldemort's wand, isn't it…'

Alexander flinched just as he said the name. 'Shut up! I am the Boy-Who-Lived! I am not like him!', he screamed arching his hand to jinx him.

'Oi Weasel! Is that a new wand,' he heard Pansy say just as he took out his own wand, just in case. Weasel had indeed taken out his wand and it looked to be new. 'Potter gave you the money for that didn't he? Seeing as your filthy muggle loving father can't even buy his children decent robes, much less a wand.'

'What do you expect, Pansy,' Draco sneered, 'When they don't have any wizarding pride. No wonder they dress in rags!', making her shriek in laughter. It was quite painful to the ears, Harry had to admit.

'Well at least we don't associate with death eater scum!' Weasley snapped back.

'Are you even a pureblood, Weasel,' Draco sneered. 'But then again, being Potter's friend, I'm surprised any of you are wizards at all. Filthy blood traitors, spawning more children than they can afford to clothe and feed!'

Not having had any of his own clothes or even decent food for most of his life, Harry had to admit, that that was a bit much.

'SHUT UP!' Weasley screamed, 'Tarrantallegara!', mispronouncing the dancing feet jinx just as Alexander yelled, 'Everte Statum!'

Both, coincidentally at Draco. Harry saw his chance and stepped in front of him, slashing his wand from up to down, 'Protego!'

A somewhat, blue-ish shield appeared in front of both Draco and Harry. Ron's off-mark orange light and Potter's blue light crashed into his flimsy shield. However, they were standing only a few feet apart, and with a bang, both duos were flung apart, into opposite walls.

'WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!' came Snape's yell, as he suddenly appeared in front of them like a bat, cape bellowing behind him.

'Ughhh!' Weasel and Potter got up from their tangle of limbs and immediately blanched seeing Snape there.

'Potter! Weasley! Twenty points from Gryffindor for doing magic in the corridors,' Snape snarled at the boys.

'What?!' Weasley yelled.

'That's not fair! They did it too!' Alexander pointed at Harry and Draco who were also getting up.

Snape whirled onto Harry, 'Explain!', he hissed murderously.

'Weasel, not watching where he was going, immediately stopped and bumped into me. I told him to watch where he was going and he started arguing back, and then insulting us Slytherins, along with Alexander,' Harry answered, keeping his right hand behind his back.

There was a gasp from Draco beside him but he ignored it… for now.

'Any witnesses?' Snape asked the group around them.

Pansy immediately stepped forward and glared at the two Gryffindors, 'Professor. They started insulting Slytherins, even though the argument was about who got into whose way, and saying how we all practise the dark arts and should get matching dark mark tattoos and then they both tried to jinx Draco, but Harry shielded them both, or tried to,' she replied and turned to Weasel. 'Some Gryffindors you are. Fighting two on one. Cowards.'

'Ten points from Gryffindor for trying to jinx a fellow student. A week's detention. Both of you!' Snape sneered at them both.

They both spluttered in anger, but when Snape said to go and see what Minerva thinks, they both shut up.

'Away with you all, now!' Snape ordered, much to the Gryffindors protests but were stopped when Draco said, rather gleefully for Harry's tastes. 'Sir. There's more.'

'What now, Mr. Malfoy?' Snape asked his mentee.

Harry was sure the man had some punishment lined up for them both once they reached the common room.

'Potter and Weasley broke Harry's wand,' he pointed to him. There were gasps all around them. Alexander's eyes widened at the revelation.

'What? Show me, Potter,' Snape said, stretching his hand out.

Harry glared at the Gryffindor duo as he handed over his broken wand. The 11 inches of willow almost snapped in half, hanging together by a single thread of unicorn hair.

Snape turned to the wilting Gryffindors and if his gaze could melt, Harry might have thought that they would be a puddle right now.

'Mark my words, Potter, Weasley! Your parents and Professor McGonagall will hear of this!' he snarled at them. 'Breaking a wizard's wand is a most heinous insult. One more week of detentions! Hand over your wands, now!'

'What? Why?' Alex recoiled back from his outstretched hand as if it was on fire.

If possible, Snape sneered even more, 'Just like your father! Clearly both of you can't be trusted not to throw jinxes in the corridor!'

'The squib did it too!' Weasley pointed at Harry, conveniently forgetting that taking his wand would be pointless, seeing as it was snapped, making everyone else remember what Harry was trying to make them forget. Curse him to the ends of the earth!

'A shield charm is not a jinx, Weasley,' Snape snarled. 'And if he were a squib, he couldn't have successfully cast a shield charm. Clearly, you don't have an intelligent bone in your body. Ten points from Gryffindor for defaming another student!'

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all, and in a rare moment of intelligence, decided not to say anything else as they both handed over their wands to Snape's outstretched hand. 'You can retrieve these from Minerva!'

He then turned to Granger, 'Who cast the first jinx, Granger? And don't lie to me.'

Granger paled a little and hesitated, looking uncertainly at Alex and Weasel, before she turned to Snape and replied, 'Professor, Ronald first cast the dancing feet jinx,'

Pansy scoffed at her, 'He botched it up!'

Hermione glared at the girl at her interruption and continued, 'And Alex cast the flinging jinx. Potter stepped in front of Malfoy and cast a shield charm.'

Snape stared at Granger for a few seconds before saying, 'Five points… to Gryffindor, Granger,' and then turned towards him, 'Potter, if you want, I'll ask Weasley's family for reimbursement.'

Weasley paled at the prospect but Harry would be damned if he took any money from them. 'It's okay, Professor. I am capable of buying my own wand if I can go to Diagon Alley tomorrow.'

'Very well, I shall escort you tomorrow. Get out of here, all of you,' Snape ordered them and Harry did not hesitate for a second before making his way out of the corridor towards the library, smirking at his successful plot albeit in a rather unexpected way. But at least, his objective of getting a second wand, without suspicion cast on himself went off without a hitch.

He was thinking of provoking a fight within Slytherin common room and accidentally breaking his wand, but when Weasley got so easily incensed by his goading, he decided why not take advantage of his foolish inability to control his temper.

And now, he was finally getting rid of a wand that didn't follow his commands, none of the blame or suspicion was on him and Gryffindor had lost more points. He grinned as he took out more books on Charms, intending to kickstart his road to greatness as soon as possible. It was good to be a Slytherin.

Twenty minutes later, a thoroughly displeased Professor McGonagall and Lily Potter had given them Alexander and Weasley another week of detentions and taken ten more points off of Gryffindor.

By the time Harry had made his way back to the Slytherin common room, a little before dinner, Slytherin house was ecstatic. Their eternal rival, was once again, down in the dumps, regardless of the many efforts of Percy Weasley, the older Gryffindors bar the twins and Hermione Granger to win them points. They had lost fifty points in a single day, again, and were once again at the bottom.

On top of that, their resident squib had broken his wand and there were bets going on, which he promptly ignored, on him not even being able to get a second one and him having to quit Hogwarts, thus saving them much embarrassment, conveniently forgetting who had been the reason for Gryffindor's loss of points.


	2. Bird of Thunder and the King of Land

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!

I DO NOT OWN THE SPELL: ADATU KHAN LEALA GHAN BREATVIS SHEMIL. IT'S FROM VAMPIRE DIARIES.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, Chief Warlock of Wizengamot, Headmaster of Hogwarts and defeater of Grindelwald, could have safely said that there wasn't anything that could surprise him.

He was a century old. He had seen too much and heard too much in his long life. Fought the darkest magics to practice the myriad of light sided techniques, studied under his mentor, one of the most celebrated wizards in centuries, discovered the uses of dragon's blood. He was no longer accustomed to being surprised.

But that was exactly what he was when an anxious Minerva had come barging into his office, babbling in her Scottish brogue and showed him the reply to the Hogwarts letter sent to one, Hadrian Potter. Like all, he had assumed, that the squib Hadrian Potter, would live out his life in the muggle world, being raised by his aunt and uncle, with his occasional visits from his family, who would explain to him, once he was seven or eight why they had to live separately.

Alexander had, somehow, using magics they couldn't possibly understand or fathom, deflected the killing curse, and in the process drained his brother's magical core. And that was what the healers in St. Mungo's had informed them. That Harry Potter's core, was not regenerating the way it should.

Of course, he had agreed to the Potter's decision of sending their son away. After all, Alexander being who he was, needed the extra attention and training. And Harry, being a squib would grow up resenting his brother. But that's all his involvement in the matter was.

So, when a hysteric and sobbing Lily Potter, had floo'd into his office and told him how Petunia had told her that Harry wanted nothing to do with them after being raised by her sister and husband, he had been completely blindsided. And that was not something he was at all accustomed to, having won two wizarding wars, against two tyrannical dark lords.

Never, in any of the scenarios he pictured, could he have imagined that the Potters would not even visit their son even once in ten years. As such, he could understand the young boy's anger. He was sure his would be similar, if he were in his position.

And then, when they had all calmed down, and a discussion with their friends, Sirius and Remus, they had all decided it would be best if Lily were given a teaching position at the school. This way, she could get to know her other son, and he would get to know his family, after inevitably being sorted into Gryffindor.

Alas, he was surprised yet again. Not only had Hadrian Potter been sorted into Slytherin, he had somehow arranged for his brother to be sorted there as well. The first, he could understand. If young Hadrian felt neglected by his parents and held resentment for it, the ambition to prove himself was almost a given.

As such, his sorting wasn't that much of a surprise. It was his surprising scheme to get young Alexander into Slytherin, and one that worked, albeit for only an hour, that raised alarms in the headmaster's mind.

Later it turned out, according to Poppy, that Hadrian Potter, getting into Hogwarts was somewhat of a similar situation as Neville Longbottom. While he was sure that Longbottom would one day come into his role as a wizard, it was perhaps impossible for young Hadrian. His core just wasn't strong enough. And a Myrridian index of 35 proved it.

That, also lent further credit, to the assumption that he was a squib, when he couldn't do basic charms. But that, to the headmaster, wasn't surprising. Indeed, it was quite expected. What was surprising was the tenacity of the young boy.

Hadrian, already having a poor image of muggles, was quite cunning in his own right. After a month or so, the headmaster had agreed with the hat. The boy belonged in Slytherin. But that was exactly why they needed him in Gryffindor, and firmly entrenched in the light side, and with his family.

It was quite clear to the century old headmaster, that the boy was quite smart, and clever. And if he was nearly a squib, he could prove to be a worthy ally for the dark, if he remained in Slytherin and mingled with the likes of Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson.

His interest in young Daphne, proved to console Albus a little. The Greengrasses were a neutral family, who could be swayed to the light. And given their negotiations with the Potters, it was highly likely. It was also a good thing that Hadrian was having an expectedly tough time in fitting in Slytherin, a house that only respects power and blood. And Hadrian had neither.

He had made him displeasure known quite clearly when Alexander Potter had disclosed to his Gryffindor friends about Hadrian's low Myrridian Index. Such an act would only push him away. And it did. He was getting increasingly resentful of his family. And so, they had come up with the mentor scheme.

Not only would it give a cover for young Alexander, to be given more attention by McGonagall, who was his mentor, it would also give Lily a chance to make amends with her other son.

'What can we do, Albus?' Lily questioned. Even if she wasn't an occlumens, her face clearly betrayed her emotions. She was greatly anxious.

'Yes, Albus! This is getting out of hand!' James paced back and forth in the headmaster's office, before his desk where the old headmaster sat, unnervingly and annoyingly calm.

'Oh…,' the headmaster looked up from the tome he had been reading. 'How so?'

'Oh, come on, Albus!' James threw his hands in the air. 'It's not going according to plan!'

'Yes. Harry and Alexander are drifting further apart,' Lily said morosely. That was not what she wished for her sons. She wanted them to be best friends, as Alex no doubt did.

'On the contrary, it is going quite well,' the headmaster said, and chuckled at their surprised looks. Oh, they were so young and hot headed.

'He broke his wand!' Lily said, exasperatedly. 'I'm not sure how that can be fixed.'

'Simple, you get him a new wand,' Dumbledore replied, but his thoughts were on another matter entirely. Indeed, it was on young Hadrian obviously, but not because of the boy's broken wand. No, it was because of his surprising and wholly unexpected ploy to become a Hogwart's governor.

It only increased his worry more. It was clear that Hadrian was indeed clever. And wanted power, if his move to become a governor was any indication. Hadrian having researched the grades for the two subjects was not all surprising. Hadrian was a Slytherin, and it was expected for him to having planned it out.

But why opt for Andromeda Black. That was quite unexpected. He hadn't even known that young Hadrian knew either Nymphadora or her mother. There must be something he was getting out of it. Dumbledore had known that the Tonks couple had been having martial problems for a few years.

He hadn't known the issues would cause a divorce. Indeed, in the magical world, having a divorce was quite rare. But Theordore Tonks was a valuable asset. It was quite a blow that Andromeda had filed for a divorce. But at least, the woman would not go back to the purebloods, the very world she ran away from, like Sirius. That, at least, was comforting.

She had readily agreed to Dumbledore's condition that she was not allowed to teach prejudice towards muggles and muggleborns in her classes. That was another source of comfort. He couldn't have that in his school, going back to the era of Phineas Nigellus Black.

'That might not be such a good idea,' James mumbled. He had contacted Ollivander as soon as Minerva had told Lily of the incident. Apparently, Ollivander had quite a tough time finding a wand that matched him. Finding a second was even harder than the first, if not impossible.

'Why not?' the headmaster asked, for once not getting the source of problem.

'Albus, Harry is nearly a squib,' James replied. 'He shouldn't even be at Hogwarts. Let alone in Slytherin! And having a wand! That could be dangerous!'

'James!' Lily admonished her husband. 'Should I remind of you what happened in Charm's class?'

'But… Lily-flower. That could just have been an accident,' James argued back, not wanting to concede what he thought was a legitimate concern.

'It might not have been, for all we know,' his wife said adamantly.

The headmaster though, intervened before the argument got out of hand. 'Lily is right, James. For now, I agree with Lily that Harry needs to be her mentee. And since, no one has agreed to take him on, it would be well within the rules if we appoint him one.'

James agreed. That was the bets possible solution. And since there was nothing Harry could do even if he objected to it, all the better.

* * *

It was with great excitement that the somewhat scrawny, nervous raven haired Slytherin boy woke up the next morning. He had had enough of being called a squib. A nobody. No good, leach. For that was why the Potters gave him up, didn't they? That he wasn't magical. That he was useless.

He knew that's what Lily and James had told Alexander. How could a one year old be expected to protect himself against dark wizards even if he was magical was beyond him. But then, since they had the great Boy-Who-Lived in the family, the one who defeated Voldemort, maybe they expected the other to be powerful as well. No matter if the mother and father themselves couldn't stand up the dark lord. Hypocrisy at its best.

But more concerning was the fact how he knew that. He knew now, that Alexander didn't tell him that. And he didn't stay to discuss it with his 'mother'. Pushing that inane idea of spontaneous revelations from his head, he slapped on a grin and made his way down to the common room.

'Hello, Tracey, Daffodil!' he greeted them enthusiastically. 'Lovely morning, isn't it?'

And it was a lovely morning. And he was in a great mood that he wasn't going to let anything spoil it. Not even Daphne's icy face.

'Hello Harry,' Tracey smiled. 'In a good, are we?' She smirked, looking from him to Daphne knowingly.

'Indeed, it is,' Harry replied, 'And a lovely weather for an outdoor stroll after Herbology.'

Daphne merely scowled, 'What do you think you're doing, Evans!'

'What?' Harry asked innocently, despite being quite aware of what she was talking about, as they walked out the common room and in the outer dungeons.

Tracey giggled behind him, 'You know what, Harry.'

'No no, I seriously do not,' Harry turned around, and started walking backwards, 'What is Daffodil?'

Harry didn't know why these two were actively speaking to him. Was it because of this morning? Hmm. That would merit some thought.

'It's about a certain flower that a certain roommate of mine found beside her bed in a certain vase,' Tracey smirking as Harry looked from her to her friend, still walking backwards.

Harry grinned, 'Ohh! Sorry it must have gone to the wrong girl. It was meant for the friendly girl.'

Dumbstruck that he would be so bold, they didn't reply for a few seconds, but then Tracey saw the mirth in those unrealistic emerald eyes, as he started chuckling. What has gotten into him today?

Daphne likely saw it too, as the next moment, Harry tripped and fell backwards with an undignified yelp. Her friend, with a smirk on her face, turned up her head with walked on with a huff, putting her wand back in her pocket.

'Ugh!' Harry got off from the ground, his backside aching and his front sore. He was just glad her aim wasn't perfect. Otherwise, the Stinging Hex landing perfectly on his crotch, would have been quite unpleasant.

Quickly, he caught with the girls, rubbing his back, and ignoring the front, for fear of looking deranged in public, 'That was not cool, Daphne flower!'

She glared at the finger he wiggled at her.

'Jeez, you really are in a good today,' Tracey said, looking from her friend to this boy, who insisted on putting Daphne in a bad mood. But maybe, he could be the one to lighten her up. As weird as that sounds in her head.

Daphne too couldn't understand why Evans was in such a good mood. She wouldn't for the sake of her reputation alone deign him with a response in public. It wouldn't do to be seen associating with the squib of Slytherin.

As Granger was called, the Mudblood, by the Slytherins – started by Pansy – because of her annoying know-it-all attitude and her constant need to prove herself more intelligent than everyone else, Hadrian was known as the Squib. He came in a close second to Longbottom but the perpetually clumsy and forgetful boy wasn't any good with using his brains either. Both were near squib level, if what she heard about Hadrian's Myrridian Index was true.

And she believed it was. Pansy, who had stuck around after transfiguration and listened as she stood outside the door, had told them how the idiot boy had the gall to ask for more advanced spells, as according to him, his magic dealt with them better.

Professor McGonagall refused, telling him how she didn't think he or his core could handle them. And apparently, that was the same answer he got from Flitwick.

That meant, that Hadrian having an index level of 35 was true. Myrridian Indexes were used to estimate the power level of a witch or wizard. Muggles have indexes between one to ten; squibs between ten to twenty or twenty-five.

And it showed in his spell-work as well. Hell, in the two or three weeks they had been practising magic, Hadrian hadn't been able to light up his wand with the lumos charm, or turn a needle into a matchstick. They hadn't yet started levitation charms as they were harder, but she doubted he could do that too. Which is also why, she highly doubted the rumour of him blowing up the charm's classroom were false.

That, alone, was a plus point for Alexander, in her book.

What reason could this boy, who had lost his wand and likely couldn't get another wand to choose him, have to be this happy. Happy enough to get her a Daffodil flower? Even if he denied it. She ignored him as they neared the Great Hall but stopped.

Harry stopped, seeing as there was a rushed, whispered argument going on in front of the Great Hall. Anger bubbled within him, his jaw tightened, and felt his magic pulsing, however limited it was, being a squib and all.

What were they doing here? It was obvious that they were waiting. As they all turned to see the approaching Slytherins and halted their argument, Lily's eyes widening.

James locked on the green and silver of his son's robes and the snake crest he wore proudly, his narrowed. Lily had somewhat of anxious look on her face as she saw her son.

The third woman however, had not turned around, 'You are not my head of house, Sirius. Don't act like a fool or you run the risk of looking as insane as dear Walla.' She saw his narrowed as widen, looking over her shoulder and turned.

'Hadrian,' she smiled, approvingly. His gait seemed better, as they had practised. 'I was hoping to catch you before breakfast.'

'He looks just like you, Prongs!' the man she called, Sirius said to James.

Harry looked from her to the black haired, grey eyed man behind her, grinning like a fool. This was a test, he realised.

With his back straight, and head up he replied, 'Lady Black,' he bowed, and kissed her offered hand, ignoring the glowering of his father or the wide eyes of the other man.

'Hadrian this is…,' the Professor motioned towards the man, but she was caught when he surged forward, sticking out his hand to him.

'Sirius Black,' the puffed out his chest, much like Draco and scarily similar to Alexander. 'Your dad's best friend and your godfather!'

'Mr. Black,' Harry replied, but he didn't bow. Instead, he just looked at the offered hand with a raised eye for a second before shaking it.

Something was going on and he had no clue as to what it was. And that didn't stand well with him. Harry sensed that the group behind him had grown somewhat, as he recognised the under the breath muttering of Draco's.

'Hadrian, who are your friends,' the Professor said, looking from him to the Slytherins behind him.

'Acquaintances, more like,' Harry answered, feeling the need to correct her. He didn't have much experience with friends, but at least he knew that they didn't just stand by while he was ridiculed by the house, or the school. 'Please allow me to introduce Ms. Tracey Davis, heir Draco Malfoy, Ms. Pansy Parkinson, heir Vincent Crabbe and heir Gregory Goyle.'

And with a smirk, he added, 'And this is the lovely Daffofil…. Umphh,' he turned to glare at the girl who had just elbowed him in the stomach. 'I mean, Heiress Greengrass. And this is Professor Andromeda Black.'

Everyone greeted the Professor before heading straight into the Great Hall, no doubt wanting to leave the imminent awkward conversation.

'You shouldn't be friends with them, Harry,' Sirius said, looking at Draco's back with a glare. 'You're much better off being friends with Alexander's friends.'

Harry had expected this and instantly, he struck this man off as a potential ally. He was a fool. Ignoring the man and James' agreement with his sentiments, Harry turned to Andromeda, 'You wanted to speak to me about something, Professor?'

Before she could reply, his mother intervened, 'We were wondering when you'd be going to Diagon Alley to get your wand, Harry?', with a little anxiousness that her face betrayed.

Seeing that Professor Black wanted to know that as well, he answered truthfully, 'Professor Snape and I were going to Diagon Alley after Herbology.'

'You're going with Snivellus?!' James growled, but was instantly silenced by the glare his wife sent him.

'Harry, I talked with Severus, and since he's busy, we'll be taking you,' Lily said, noting the pursing of her son's lips. 'Please Harry. We know that we weren't at your first wand selection, we want to be there for this one.'

Seeing as he had no choice anymore, he agreed, much to their pleasure.

'Brilliant. We'll go as soon as we're all done with breakfast!' Sirius said, and high-fiving James.

Before Harry could leave to, morning slightly ruined, Andromeda stopped him, 'Come with me, Hadrian.'

She turned back towards the entrance hall and towards the moving staircases. Harry followed without question.

'Professor LeFay asked me to bring you to her office before you left to get your wand,' she offered helpfully.

'Of course, Professor. Do you know why?' he asked, curious as to what the odd witch could want.

'I have no idea, I'm afraid,' Andromeda replied, 'But I gather it is important.'

Harry nodded. If it is anything to do with his wand, then he would gladly spend hours with her. The rest of the time walking up to the Astronomy was spent in small talk and how Harry knew Nymphadora.

Andromeda laughed when he commented on feeling pity that she had such a name. 'Well, I wanted a constellation name, or a star name for her and Ted wanted a Shakespearean name.'

'And so, you ended up with Nymphadora,' Harry shook his head. No wonder the girl didn't like her name. Just like Harry didn't like his.

'Yes, very amusing, it is,' the voice of Professor LeFay sounded from the right side of her office. 'Come in, Hadrian, Andromeda.'

Harry was surprised that the two women were on first name basis so soon. He didn't know they were friends.

'Told why I asked you here, has she?' the Professor asked, pouring them both a cup of tea.

'No, Professor,' Harry replied, taking a sip of the odd reddish coloured tea in the exquisite china cup.

'Like it, do you?' Professor LeFay asked him, seeing his satisfied sigh with his closed eyes.

'Yes, it's… fruity,' he replied, quite liking the taste.

'Raspberry,' Andromeda added. 'So, I take it you didn't want it becoming public knowledge you wanting to see my student.'

'Your student?' Qetisyah asked her fellow teacher. 'Quite possessive, are you?'

'Well, I am his tutor,' Andromeda replied with a shrug, 'And extended family.'

'Hmmm,' Qetsiyah took a long sip from her tea, enjoying the flavour it seems. 'Ask you to leave, I would, now.'

Both Harry and Andromeda narrowed their eyes at the weird request which was more like an order. But then it came to him, 'Plausible deniability,' he said, just as Andromeda was beginning to object.

'Exactly,' Qetsiyah replied, nodding. 'For her to get in trouble, possible it is.'

'Fine,' Andromeda sighed, 'But you'll have to tell me where you get this tea.'

Chuckling Qetsiyah agreed. It was very weird to see this serious woman, who last time had called him a useless, incompetent idiot, chuckling.

Harry stomach rumbled, quite audibly, making his close his eyes in embarrassment as Qetsiyah raised an eyebrow. He was quite hungry.

'Come now, Hadrian,' she got up, and walked to where the raised dais was, her long dress flowing after her. 'Sit,' she ordered and Harry saw a chair in the middle. 'It's good that you didn't eat.'

The chair, on the dais, was linked to the raised column with the orb via some vines, particularly uncomfortable, looking thorny vines, wrapping around the chair and the column. 'Why?' Harry asked, hesitant to sit on something so obviously painful without knowing just what the hell she was doing.

'Helping you, I am,' she said and with a wave of her hand, the door closed with a flash of yellow light surrounding it. It still amazed him how she could just do magic without a wand.

'Did some research, on your condition I did,' the Professor took a large vase in her hand, filled with what looked like various herbs and flowers. 'A squib, you are not.'

She chuckled at the surprised look on his face. Nobody believed when he told them. Not his Slytherin housemates, not his 'mother', not Professor McGonagall or Flitwick.

'Able to shatter a room's windows, you could not, were a squib.' The Professor started dropping the flowers and herbs in large quantities in a large circle surrounding the chair and the column. 'The flow of your magic, is being blocked, I gathered.'

'How do I unblock it?' Harry asked, excited and a little nervous. He didn't know how she knew but this was the first clue he had gotten into his condition ever since Ollivander had given his willow wand.

'Not easily,' she answered, 'Take of your robes.'

Alarmed, Harry asked, 'What?!'

'Covered by the vines, you need to be,' she pointed to the chair. 'And sit.'

'O…Okay,' Harry was still hesitant about but agreed nonetheless, taking off his silk robe, and the shirt when she motioned for it.

'Make it easier for your magic to flow, my spell will,' she said, finishing the circle of herbs and then putting down the herbs in straight lines, connecting the circle to the chair. In total, five lines. 'Force you to your magical core, it will. What you will find there, I do not know.'

'Will it hurt?' Harry asked, already mentally preparing himself for the pain.

'Yes,' she replied, and as soon as he had sat onto the chair, the vines raised into the air, and with a whoosh of air, suddenly began wrapping themselves around him, making him hold in his yells of pain. The thorns were digging into his skin, his arms, legs, body. He could even feel the thorns digging into his back. Merlin was it painful.

But nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. The Professor went to a bubbling cauldron, and ladled out what looked like a dark grey potion in a bowl.

Qetisyah, dipping both hands' fingers into it and covering them with the thick, grey potion, started chanting, 'Adatu Khaan Leala Ghan Breatvis Shemil…. Adatu Khaan Leala Ghan Breatvis Shemil…'

Harry trying to ignore the pain, felt rather than saw the magic swirling in the room. It looked to be a focused on the herb circle. Then the Professor started chanting in some weird ancient sounding language he had no idea about.

The vines became more painful. They stung as he realised they were releasing some sort of liquid – a poison. Crap!

She was still chanting as she neared him, behind him. Suddenly, she put her fingers on his temples, chanting. His world burst into agony. He had never known such pain in his life. 'AHHHH!' he screamed, but she paid it no attention, continuing her chanting.

Harry felt like his brain was going to melt. His eyes stung like needles were growing out from inside them. His ears hurt like hell. A warm liquid flowing down his face made him realise, in all that world of pain, his eyes were bleeding.

And then suddenly, the pain stopped, his world turned to black.

Qetsiyah sighed, breathing deeply. The spell wasn't that difficult but she had gotten a sense of what was blocking his magic. It was insidious. It was dark! Darker than anything she had seen! And it actively pushed against her spell.

But luckily, she wasn't just a powerful witch in whose family was the likes of Morgana LeFay, for nothing. She had pushed in all her power, continuing the spell forcing Hadrian's conscious mind towards his magical core. His essence. His centre. Usually, such an experience was highly personal. But the usual way took wizards and witches ages to master.

This way, was much easier, but it came with a lot of risks. If Harry didn't succeed whatever was going on inside his head now, he would most likely be brain damaged for the rest of life. Or dead.

Harry wondered where in the hell he was. It didn't seem like there anything there. Only, a corridor. He couldn't feel his own body. Looking down, and around, he didn't have one. What in the world?

The corridor was dark. Not completely black, but there was a distinct lack of light. There were pipes on the walls, which looked like made from grey metal of some kind. The pipes led down into one direction. All of them. Some wide and some as thin as his fingers.

There was a dead end behind him. Harry followed the pipes. With a startle, he realised, there weren't pipes at all. They had scales on them! Scales he had only seen on one kind of animal. Snakes! They were snakes!

He didn't know if this made him more wary or comfortable. Still, he walked along the barely lit corridor. Every now and then, left and right along the main corridor, there were openings, leading to more corridors, but Harry didn't turn.

How was he here when he didn't even have a body. Still, he followed the main corridor, hurrying when he saw a little light coming from the other end. What was going on?

The corridor opened up to what seemed like a lounge. Except it was covered. All around the said lounge were openings which led to more corridors. But it was what was in the middle that transfixed him.

The source of the light he had seen. It was a ball. A ball of light. Blue, yet almost yellow. Harry neared the ball and it pulsed. As if it was alive!

It started beating. The light from within it getting stronger. Then weakening. Then bursting into light again. Then almost going out altogether. But just barely being lit, like embers. It was when Harry felt the weakest. The most vulnerable, scared, despaired.

Harry didn't know what he was thinking but almost subconsciously, he reached out to the ball, knowing he didn't have any hands but he did it all the same.

'AHHHH!' Harry heard himself scream in pain. The ball burnt him! The tendrils of yellow and blue light crawling up and around him, into his very being, his essence, they plunged.

Harry couldn't breathe. The tendrils latched onto every part of him they could find, as sharp as spears they plunged into him. But then, his vision blacked out. Something was suffocating him. Something insidious. Vile and Evil. Something dark. It whispered and hissed.

The blue tendrils shot from inside him, fighting against the darkness consuming him, pushing against the overwhelming fear. The darkness lessened, and Harry saw a ball of dark red and black something…. Energy… inside the large blue one.

He didn't know how he knew, but that was the evil source! He could feel it. It was fighting to consume him. Harry pushed. With all his might, his will and his intent, he pushed against the dark ball of void.

It hissed and screamed. Tendrils as dark as the ball itself lashed out. Forming into chains and spears. Harry fought back with all might, forming the blue energy into shields, battling against the black spears.

He didn't know how long he battled the entity. It might have been hours or even years. Every time Harry severed one tendril, two grew in its place. More vicious than before. More cunning.

Harry formed a battering ram, pushing with all the strength he could muster, ignoring the excruciating pain he was under. He changed tactics. The ball was obviously smart. Independent. In a moment that was sheer insanity, or sheer cleverness, Harry let all of his shields go. Blue energy going back into the ball which had dimmed considerably.

The void strengthened, feeling victorious against the blue energy. The black tendrils loosened. Seeing his chance, Harry, with all his will that came with years and years of persevering the abuse of his relatives, Dudley and his gang, pushed all his strength and his energy into the blue ball, surrounding the black void.

The void screaming and lashed, hissed and cursed, tendrils flailed but Harry didn't let up. Surrounding it from all sides, the blue ball pushed, with strength that came from ten years of abuse.

Eventually, Harry was able to isolate the black entity, out of the blue ball but it was still dangerous. It needed a cage. Harry, with every ounce of blue energy he could find that wasn't in the ball, constructed a cage. A small, thick cage around the void, chains of blue surrounding it from all sides.

Intent was the basis of magic! And whatever the hell this was, wherever he was, this had to be magical! The purest form of magic, he realised. No spells, no incantations. Just pure intent!

He willed the cage to become smaller and smaller, squeezing the void lashing out, from all sides, plunging the thick blue chains into the black void, like it had tried to do the blue ball. The chains entered from one and exited the other. Over and over again, Harry did this.

At last, the void gave up, caged in a small cell, shrinking the ball as much as he could, and chains surrounding and protruding it. Harry put the caged void into a dark, abyss, at the end of a much more darkened corridor with no snake pipes and created a large blue door.

A thick creation, with chains and shields, spears and swords and axes on both sides of it – on the darkened corridor side should the void ever get out of its cage and on the side leading to the blue ball.

It had been more than an hour, Qetsiyah began to be worried. She wasn't worried about the headmaster or even the boy's parents. No, she was worried about what was happening in the boy's mind. He periodically screamed. As if in pain from being struck with swords. Lashed around in his chair, thorny vines digging into his flesh keeping him in place.

His eyes and ears bled. His knuckles became white, he gripped the chair so hard. And still, he remained unconscious. It was clear he was undergoing some internal battle. But what could it be? And will he survive it?

'AHH!' Harry screamed, jerking awake suddenly. His vision was blurry, his breathing rapid and uneven. His head hurt more than it ever had in his life. His scar hurt.

Slowly, his breath evened out, his vision returned, somewhat, until someone, a lithe figure, put his glasses on and he realised it was the Professor.

His mouth was dry as if he hadn't drunk in days, his throat parched. Looking down, he saw the vines no longer contained him. The scars were still there as were the pores the thorns had into his flesh, his blood trickling out from numerous wounds.

'Drink,' she handed him a dark red, rusty potion. 'Blood replenishing potion.'

Harry nodded, and with a very weak hand, grabbed the vial and downed it in one go. 'What happened?', he asked after a while. His headache had yet to subside but it had lessened.

'You tell me,' she replied, 'I only cast the spell to force you to link yourself with your magical core.'

Harry nodded, realising his suspicion was correct. Slowly, he relayed to her what had happened.

'What the void is, I do not know,' she said, looking lost in thought. 'Research on it, I will.'

'Professor Qetsiyah… I….' he didn't what he wanted to ask.

'Ugh… Qetsiyah is so ancient timey, don't you think? How about… Tessa? It's a little different but not so different that you wouldn't find it on one of those souvenir keychains.'

Harry sighed, not having enough mindpower to comment on the fact that this insane woman, who had put his through mental and physical torture was actually speaking normally for once.

'The spell worked. Your magic should flow better… and until we find out what that void is, that will have to do,' she got up from her hair, and neared him, muttering under her breath. Qetsiyah – Tessa – waved her hand over the numerous wounds he had and they sealed up immediately, the skin healed as if nothing had been wrong in the worst place.

'You will have to wash your face,' she got up and started gathering the herbs, or what used to be herbs. That was when he realised, they had caught on fire.

Just what in the hell was this magic? He didn't have the energy to ask, for now. He could barely keep his head on straight.

'Go on and get refreshed,' she pointed him to the bathroom nearby. 'I shall have the food ready.'

Harry obliged and slowly trudged back towards her living quarters, paying no attention to the ancient scenery of the magically modified room. Every bone in his body ached, every muscle protested to his movement, his heart hammered and head throbbed.

'It'll be worth it,' he carried on, and finally got to the washroom, taking off his glasses, he turned on the tap and washed his face thoroughly, trying to get the caked blood from his eyes and ears off. It wasn't the first time he had bled this much.

He remembered a time when Dudley had pushed him in front of a car. That was something he shuddered to even think about.

Tessa sat in her office, having cleaned up the burnt remains of the herb circle, and gotten rid of the vines surrounding the chair. Many people, if not all, would have preferred a binding spell or something similar, but she was more old school.

But what the boy had told her concerned her greatly. She knew not of anything similar to the parasite inside Hadrian, leeching on his magic. At first, she had thought the block on his magic was merely psychological and forcing him to his magical centre would force him to confront the deepest, darkest parts of himself.

It wasn't until the block, which she had previously presumed to be inanimate, had pushed against her magic, did she realise that they were dealing with something entirely different. But that showed that her suspicions about the boy were indeed correct, to some degree.

She had readily agreed with him that it wasn't that big of a deal, but she knew not of any eleven year old child that was capable of not only surviving a ritual that would leave most, if not all, under fifteens comatose, but also able to push a malicious entity into a dark corner, an abyss as he called it, by his power alone.

Very quickly this boy was becoming more and more interesting. Much more than his brother, who had somehow survived the killing curse himself, and even that she was having doubts on, now. She was snapped out of her reverie when there was a scream, no a panicked a yell from inside her quarters.

Putting her tea cup down, she rushed into the washroom, dreading what she would find there, and troubleshooting scenarios in her when she came upon a dumbstruck looking Hadrian, standing in front of the mirror, his face washed clean.

What was he staring at?

She gasped as he turned around. His eyes had changed, or rather a single eye had changed. His right eye, was a bright purple, contrasting incredibly with his bright emerald left one.

'What in the world?' she asked, more to herself.

'I… I… don't know…,' it seemed he was just as confused as she was. A side effect of the ritual perhaps? They had bled quite a bit. But she knew nothing of any side effect that would affect eye colours?

'Come now,' she ushered him towards the parlour, where food was waiting. 'Breakfast, first.'

Harry eagerly dug in, opting to forget about the strange things happening to him this morning, as he remembered how hungry he was. He devoured scones, and eggs, and bacon, coffee and orange juice, and croissants for almost half an hour, releasing a satisfied, relaxed sigh when he was done.

Looking up, the woman was looking at him quite amusedly. 'Curious… very curious…'

Harry didn't need to ask. He knew she was talking about his right eye. He eyed her warily, when she put a hand inside a robe and drew her wand. That was the first time he had ever seen such a beautiful wand. It was white, no… ivory, with a helical handle, a short pommel and a straight blade.

It made him quite jealous honestly as he remembered his own shitty willow wand but he pushed those feelings down instantly.

'Relax,' she said to him as she waved her wand around his face. A tingling sensation pricked his skin near his right eye. The next second, she conjured a mirror and right eye was the same shade as his left.

'Glamour charm, for now,' she sighed. 'Interesting, you are.'

'I would have thought you'd think Alexander was more interesting,' Harry couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at her. She had called him an incompetent fool previously.

'Hmmm…. An inferiority complex, you have,' she said bluntly, noting the way he got incensed quickly.

'I do not!' he replied curtly. Where does she get off saying something like that?

'Hn,' was her reply. 'Deal with it later, we shall. For now, an important task, I have for you.'

They spent the next half an hour practising his impromptu task, until Herbology was finished, which Harry had skipped altogether.

'Remember what I said, you must,' she said from her seat as he was leaving the Astronomy Hall, nodding to her in reply. 'Buy a wand from Ollivander, you cannot.'

'I won't.'

Harry walked hurriedly, trying his level best to ignore the sore muscles or the need to collapse, which had increased even more after his lesson. Safe to say, he hadn't thought he would be doing anything like that in his schooling years.

It was nothing they had ever learned in charms, transfiguration or in any of the other classes. He doubted it could even be called magic. But whatever it was, it exhausted him, no doubt.

A gruelling ten minutes later, he was entering Professor McGonagall's office, as informed by Andromeda when she had left.

'Ah, Harry, good, you're here,' Lily said, smiling to him as if nothing had ever happened between them.

'Hadrian,' Harry replied, not willing to give them the freedom to call him by his pathetic muggle name – not that Hadrian wasn't a muggle name but it sounded better.

'Mr. Potter, I have given permission for your parents to take you to Diagon Alley to get you your wand, seeing as yours is broken,' Professor McGonagall replied, before any awkward silence could take place.

Harry nodded, knowing there wasn't anything he could do about it. She motioned him towards her floo, which James and Sirius were standing near, grinning like loons.

What did they have to be so happy about? Harry had hardly given them a reason to be so. Before they could depart however, there was a knock on the door.

'Come in,' Professor McGonagall called out.

Harry was visibly relieved to see his head of house stride in, his cloak billowing behind him as usual. He did note a certain growl coming from James Potter, or maybe it was Sirius. Who knows?

'Severus, what can I help you with?' Professor McGonagall asked.

'Merely that I ask Mr. Potter be brought back as soon as he has gotten a wand,' Snape said, ignoring the incensed look on James Potter's face. 'I will not allow dilly dallying to anyone from my house, no matter their last name.'

'You don't order me, Sniv…. Snape,' James Potter snarled, correcting his speech given the glare from his wife.

Harry resisted the urge to grin. He really liked how merely a sentence from Snape was enough to put James Potter on edge.

'I agree,' Professor McGonagall said to her ex-students. 'Mr. Potter has History of Magic with Andromeda today.'

'Why can't Dumbledore fix his wand and be done with it?' James Potter said, looking genuinely confused.

Harry was surprised to here a growl from Snape, 'No! Your idiot dunderhead godson broke my charge's wand and I will not allow for him to be saddled with a substandard wand especially since the tournament is returning this year. If you're too lazy, Potter. I shall take Hadrian myself!'

And with that agreement, reluctantly by James Potter, they were off. Harry landed most ungracefully on the dirty floor of the leaky cauldron, which always looks like it hadn't been cleaned for years.

'Ah. Don't worry Harry,' Sirius clapped him on the back when he grimaced, dusting off his robes. 'Jamie was like that as well. Still is sometimes…'

'Sod off, Padfoot,' James gave his friend a slight push. 'Right let's go…,' he exchanged rolled eyes with Sirius as Harry had already walked towards the foyer.

'We contacted Ollivander's yesterday,' Lily said to him, making him raise an eyebrow. 'Well… when Minerva told us what happened…'

'Yes, yes…,' James agreed. 'I have to say, I am proud of you both upholding the tradition of jinxing in corridors…'

'Though it would have been better if it wasn't against your own brother,' Sirius added, helpfully. Or what he thought was helpful.

James coughed, 'Yes, well. Only a little argument that got out of hand Padfoot.'

Harry ignored the other three as they neared the shop. He was too busy practising what Tessa had just taught him.

Opening the door, he was completely unsurprised to see that the shabby, dirty interior of the shop hadn't changed at all. The boxes lining the shelves were still dusty, an air of staleness of still present and Mr. Ollivander was still gone.

'Ah. Mr. Potter,' Ollivander appeared from behind him suddenly, making him jump, much to his dismay, just like the other three who had accompanied him. 'I was expecting you today.'

Again, Harry felt the odd sensation of the man looking through him but this time, he was smarter. Not once did he look into Ollivander's eerie silver eyes.

'Ah. Lily Potter. Willow and unicorn hair, ten inches. Quite swishy. Excellent for charms,' the wandmaker turned to her, standing a little behind Harry. 'I hope it's still serving you well?'

'Yes. It is, Mr. Ollivander,' she replied, putting her hands on Harry's shoulders, either not noticing his flinch or ignoring it altogether. 'We're just here to get Harry's wand.'

'Ah yes yes… Much like your mother. Willow and unicorn hair, eleven inches… It's a shame what happened to it… Well no matter. We'll find another for you here somewhere,' Ollivander said, going to the shelves and started taking off boxes after boxes.

'Did you by any chance read the book you took, Mr. Potter,' he asked, holding two different wands in his hands, and listening to them as if they could be talking to him.

'What book?' Lily from him to Ollivander curiously. Ever the know-it-all.

'I did, Mr. Ollivander,' Harry replied. Indeed, he had spent quite a bit of time reading it to see if he could find anything that would help him.

'Mr. Potter here took a book on wandlore from me the last time he was here,' Ollivander said, handing him a wand. 'Birch and unicorn hair.'

As soon as Harry had held it, it was taken out from his wands. 'And what did you think about it?'

'Quite interesting. Especially the chapter about enchanting and runes on wand crafting,' Harry replied, taking a different wand this time and that too was taken from his hand.

'Ah yes… Not every wandmaker uses runes in their wands of course, but I find that it helps in stabilising magic,' Ollivander nodded. 'Here, blackthorn and dragon heartstring.' Ollivander was looking at him the same way he had looked when he had handed him his willow wand.

Harry hesitated taking the wand, but did not want to show his apprehension. He could feel something emanating from the wand, even if it was still in the wandmaker's hand.

Immediately, Harry envisioned the blue orb of light in his magical centre like he had been practising with Tessa. As soon as he was in that lounge, he had visited two hours ago, with all his might, he squeezed the orb, decreasing its size until it was the size of the tennis ball. All the while trying with every power in his being to keep the struggle off his face.

Taking the wand, he was relieved to see that nothing happened.

'Well, give it a wave….,' Ollivander said impatiently, looking at Harry as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

Still avoiding his eyes, Harry did as he said and resisted to sigh in relief when nothing happened.

'Hmmm… no matter,' Ollivander took it back and started handing him more wands.

Not wanting to take a chance of actually finding a wand, he kept the ball squeezed, even it was taking a monumental effort. Every other wand, he could gradually let it increase in size, but then decrease it again.

Ollivander grew happier by the wand that did nothing for him, or outright rejected him. As the wands piled up, James and Sirius got restless and soon left to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Almost two hours later, he had tried almost every other wand in the shop… all bar one…

'Most curious….' Ollivander said, looking at him if he was an enigma.

'Has this happened before?' Lily asked, somewhat worried.

Harry made himself look like he too was worried. 'Why?'

'Hmm. It might because of your…. Condition, Mr. Potter,' Ollivander said hesitantly.

'You mean, he really is a squib?' Lily asked and winced almost instantly when she realised how bluntly she had put it.

Apparently the wandmaker didn't like it either as he narrowed his eyes at her, 'No indeed. If he was, the willow wand wouldn't have chosen him in the first place.'

'Do you remember the qualities of willow wood, Mr. Potter?' he asked Harry, going back to the shelf and bringing out a wand, in a brown box.

'Yes,' Harry answered, apprehensive about what he could feel from the box. It was a weird sensation. It simultaneously called to him and wanted to get away from him.

Seeing as Mr. Ollivander probably wanted a better explanation for his question, he told him what he remembered. 'Willow… good healing power. Good for advanced non-verbal magic.'

'Indeed,' Ollivander opened the box and in it was a wand with a very similar looking wood. 'The ideal owner of a willow wand usually has some insecurity, however unwarranted, as much as they try to hide it. My willow wands have consistently chosen those with the greatest potential.'

He held out the wand to Harry, 'This is the last wand in my shop, Mr. Potter. I daresay this will suit you. Willow and phoenix feather, eleven and half inches, created only yesterday.'

Harry cursed internally. He couldn't squeeze the blue ball, without making Ollivander even more suspicious than he already was. He had probably realised what was happening, albeit he must have thought it was happening in response to wands, rather than Harry doing it himself.

It was too late. If Harry did it after what Ollivander had said, it would undoubtedly tip him off. But what was this? Why could Harry feel a part of his own magic on the wand, still held in Ollivander's hand.

'Well go on,' Ollivander prompted, thrusting the wand in Harry's hand.

Crap! Harry closed his eyes, dreading that he might actually be chosen by this wand that was partially rejecting him. Clearly Ollivander felt the same.

But he needn't have worried. Just as Harry waved it, it emitted a sharp wail… a screech and burnt Harry's hand.

'Agh,' Harry let of the wand, letting it fall on the desk, which now had set itself on fire and with a burst of magic, the wand disintegrated into ash.

'Most interesting….,' Ollivander didn't seem worried at all, that the last wand Harry tried had set itself on fire.

'Mr. Ollivander, what is going on?' Lily asked, looking from her son, to the ash of the wand to the wandmaker.

'What happened?' James opened the door just in time for him and Sirius to see the last of fire on the ash go out.

'It seems that the wand has most vehemently rejected you, Mr. Potter. Though why? I do not know…,' Ollivander looked deep in thought. 'I daresay you have met the phoenix it came from, Mr. Potter.'

'Fawkes?' now Harry was surprised. Fawkes had given a feather for his potential wand?

'Indeed,' Ollivander replied. 'Fawkes has only given two other feathers before… Both nearly sixty years ago. Do you remember, Mr. Potter?'

'I do,' Harry said, still wondering how they knew the wand would somehow attract him? He said it was only made last night.

'How do you know that?' Sirius asked Harry who ignored his question, still lost in his suspicions.

'Yew and phoenix feather, 13 ½ inches, Voldemort's wand… Powerful, very powerful…,' Harry whispered, not seeing the shock on the other three adult's faces.

'Indeed, and the second?' Ollivander asked, also ignoring the other three in the shop, focusing on this most interesting boy.

'It's brother. Alexander's wand… 11 inches, Holly,' Harry replied. What could it mean that the same phoenix whose feather was in Alex's and Voldemort's wand was attracted to him? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

No… there was no way. The only other explanation was that Dumbledore thought it would choose him. He ignored the gasps from the three behind him.

'Indeed. Holly, a rare wood, though not even close as rare as yew. What are the qualities of holly?' Ollivander asked him, now noting the three looking at Harry as if he had grown another head.

Harry shook his head from his suspicions. He would have time enough to meditate and research on his suspicions. Now was not the time. 'Rare wood. Traditionally considered protective. Works most happily to those who need help in overcoming anger and impetuosity. Often choose those engaged in dangerous or spiritual quests. Performance varies most dramatically, depending on the core.'

'Very good, Mr. Potter, very good,' Ollivander clapped. 'I daresay you should have been a Ravenclaw as clever as you are.'

Sirius snorted, 'Would have been much better than a snake,' he said under his breath.

Ollivander sent him a glare that silenced the idiot man. 'Hmmm… well…. You have now tried every wand in my shop Mr. Potter.'

'What happens now?' he asked the man, not looking in his eyes, afraid that the man will realise what he had done but looked most stubbornly at the man's chin. As far down as he could look without making it obvious that he was avoiding eye contact.

'Yes, what now?' James said, trying to keep his hopefulness of his voice but Harry heard it all the same. So, they were hoping that he would find a wand. How surprising…. Not.

'Well it's not the first time this has happened,' Ollivander replied and Harry cursed mentally. He had been afraid of this. 'Either, I can craft a wand specifically for Mr. Potter or you can try another shop.'

Before Harry could reply, his decision was taken out his hands as James most enthusiastically replied, 'We'll try another shop. And come back if we can't find a wand there.'

Harry sighed, though the others most probably thought it as resignation and not relief, which it was.

'Well, let's go to Jimmy Kiddell,' Sirius said, ushering them towards the shop with the hideous pink sign.

'What self-respecting wizard would be called Jimmy Kiddell?' Harry grumbled under his breath but it was the clear that the other three heard him.

'Why?' Sirius asked, looking back at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. How could a man from a respectable, pureblood family even ask that? 'The name's even worse than Harry.'

'Harry's a wonderful name!' Lily argued, and Harry shook his head, not wanting to get into the same argument with her… again.

He heard Sirius mumble something about Dorea but Harry ignored him.

'Harry, where are you going?' Lily asked, seeing as Harry had crossed the pink signed shop and was walking straight. James and Sirius too looked confusedly at him.

'I refuse to buy a wand from a man with a pink signed shop and a muggle name worse than mine,' Harry didn't stay behind long enough to see their shock or hear their gasps and walked towards Carkitt Market, heading straight towards the only wand shop he respected.

'What the hell… Where are you going?' Sirius quickly caught up with him but stopped when he spotted the shop he was heading towards.

'Him?! You're going to buy a shop from a retired wandmaker?' James stopped, dumbstruck. This was really not going according to their plan.

Lily looked apprehensive and a cross between angry and confused. 'Harry,'

'Hadrian,' he replied.

'Ollivander is much better,' she said, trying to get her son to go according to their plan. They all had been expecting him to be chosen by the phoenix wand that Ollivander had urgently made for them yesterday.

They might not have said anything but all four of them knew that it was necessary for Harry to have a phoenix wand. For his wand to be linked to Alexander's. They needed an insurance that even if somehow Harry found a wand, it wouldn't be able to do harm to Alexander.

Dumbledore had explained to them the phenomenon of brother wands when Alexander had been chosen by Voldemort's brother wand. And that was how they had come up with the plan to get Ollivander to make a wand with Fawke's feather and a sample of Harry's magical signature taken from his broken wand. When hours later, Ollivander had floo'd them that the wand was ready, they had no doubt that it would choose Harry.

Why wouldn't it. Harry's magical signature was in the wand, after all. Might not have been the most legal thing to do but it was necessary. For Harry's and Alexander's sake. James and Dumbledore might have put the argument that destroyed Harry's wand, down to boys being boys but Lily knew better.

This rivalry was bound to increase if Harry got a wand that actually worked against Alexander's. And when she had made her thoughts known, they had all agreed that that was something that could not happen.

Hence the quickly hatched plan to have Ollivander craft a wand using Harry's magical signature. It helped that Harry seemed to be accepted by Fawke's just like Alexander was. Dumbledore was so sure it would work. Something about thaumaturgy. Though Lily had no idea what it was. But as soon as she got back to Hogwarts, she would research it.

It wasn't often when Dumbledore was wrong. The wand crafted using Harry's magical signature had not only rejected him but somehow burnt itself to ashes, much to her shock. That wasn't meant to happen.

Neither was this. How in the world were they going to control this? But Harry was already walking into the dark purple coloured shop, labelled, 'Wands by Gregorovitch' despite James' and Sirius' protests.

She sighed and followed, hoping beyond hope that no wand accepted her son here, so that they can go back to Ollivander and have him craft another for him.

'Welcome,' said an attractive teen girl, who Sirius immediately made an over exaggerated bow to and kissed her hand.

'Well I must it is a pleasure being a welcome by you,' Sirius wiggled his eye brows at the girl.

What a dog! Harry though, disgustedly.

Thankfully, Mia had gotten his hastily written note via Sookie. She pulled her hand away from the disgusting man, with a look that screamed 'last warning, pal.'

'How can I help you…' she turned to Harry. 'Mr. Potter, it is an honour to meet you.'

Harry saw the dropped jaws of the other three in the shop and replied, 'And you, Ms…'

'Mia, Mia Gregorovitch. You can call me Mia,' she held out her hand, which Harry immediately brushed his lips against. 'You are quite the talk amongst wandmakers, Mr. Potter.'

'Harry' he replied, knowing what she was saying was complete and utter bullshit and but the others didn't have to know that.

'What do you mean, Mia?' James surged forward, looking from him to the girl. 'You're this isn't Alexander, the Boy-Who-Lived.'

'That's Ms. Gregorovtich to you,' Mia narrowed her eyes at the impertinent man. 'And I'm well aware of that.'

'Well, you're lucky Harry, my grandfather is visiting today,' Mia said, ignoring the gasps from his parents and Sirius. 'May I ask what happened to your previous wand?'

'How do you know he had a previous wand?' Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes at the girl. Harry thought he looked quite childish, throwing a tantrum because a girl didn't accept his advances.

'Like I said, he's quite the talk amongst the wand-making community,' Mia replied and then called out towards the back and said something in what they presumed was either Bulgarian or Austrian. Some kind of European language.

Seconds later, Mykew Gregorovitch stepped out from the back, still looking the same as a couple of months ago. 'Ah. Mr. Potter, it iz an honor,' he said in heavily accented English, unlike his granddaughter. 'I am Mykew Gregorovitch. You are here for your wand, yez?'

'I thought you retired?' James said, looking slightly confused at this most unexpected occurrence

'I am,' he replied with a smirk. 'Retirement for wandmakers is different. Why don't you ask your preciouz Ollivander?' he said with a scoff.

That effectively shut him though they still grumbled about not informing the Ministry at which Mykew threw them all a glare.

'I have permission from Bulgarian Ministry and my shop is an extension of it…,' he growled at the impertinent young men who thought they could throw their weight around as Aurors. 'Now, Mr. Potter, let us ignore dis fool and get to work.'

Harry smirked. He really liked how he was making James bristle. Mykew said something to Mia which was probably to get wand boxes which she immediately started doing from the shelves.

'Here, Rosewood and dragon heartstring,' he handed him a wand but took it out of his hand instantly, much like Ollivander.

'Elm and unicorn hair,' Mia gave him a black wand which didn't look like elm at all took it away as well. And so, they went on and on, and pile grew larger and larger. Half an hour passed, then an hour and all the adults grew weary.

Harry noted, however, that they looked quite pleased with the results. Did they want him not to find a wand here? Or at all? Either way, there hopes were doomed to ashes.

'Grandfather, why don't we try your older wands from Austria, instead of my recent ones,' Mia said, winking at him. Just like clockwork.

Lily's head snapped up at the implication. 'Aren't you a little young to be making wands?'

Mia smiled, 'I've been apprenticing for grandfather since I was nine.'

Lily conceded, not wanting to argue even though she felt that it wasn't enough time for anyone to learn something as complex as wand-making. But what did she know?

'Yes, yes. Quite right,' Mykew said, and instead of going back to the workshop, he went towards the floo. Throwing in a pinch of floo powder, he said, 'Gregorovitch Zauberstabe!' and vanished in a burst of green fire.

Harry took the time to talk to Mia about what he had learnt about wands since July when he had met her, much to the surprise of the other three.

'Yes,' she chuckled, 'Grandpapa and Mr. Ollivander rarely agree about anything but they do about Hawthorn.'

'So, it's true?' Harry asked, quite interested in the irony that Hawthorn wands posed.

'Oh yes, quite similar to blackthorns as well,' Mia said excitedly. 'Here I have a sample.'

She flicked her wand and came flying from inside a small branch, eerily similar to what Harry had just been tied up in. 'What do you make of this?' she asked.

Harry took it gingerly and carefully, his hands roaming the length of the wood. 'There's something strange about it…'

'Like?'

Harry noted there were thorns on the wood, just like those that had pierced his flesh merely hours ago. 'Its thorns…. Smell of….,' he raised his head to her, seeing her encouraging nod. He didn't know if he was right but it was the only thing that came to mind, 'Death.'

He heard Lily gasp from behind him and a surprised curse from James and Sirius, but he ignored it, seeing Mia's smile. 'Exactly. Yet the leaves and blossoms heal. And quite often used in potions. What does that mean?'

This was a day full of tests, it seems. Harry pondered on it a few moments, not being able to understand how the only logical solution he could think of, made sense.

'It means Hawthorn wands are good at healing… yet also adept at curses,' he handed the branch back to her.

'Precisely Harry. Precisely. Hawthorns make contradicting, paradoxical wands,' she grinned. 'They seem most at home with a witch or wizard with a conflicted nature. Or one going through a period of turmoil. But one thing is certain, Hawthorn wands always chose those with proven talent.'

Before they could continue their discussion about the nature of wands and woods, they were interrupted by a flare of green fire from the floo and out came Mykew holding only a few, very dusty boxes in his hands.

'Now, Mr. Potter, if you vould follow me,' the man said, going straight towards the back of the shop.

Harry looked questioningly at Mia who nodded to him and so Harry followed the two, aware of how his parents and the fool had followed him, even without invitation. How rude.

They passed what was clearly the workshop, with slabs and slabs of wood upon numerous shelves and what looked like cores in glass jars. It had actually looked like a mix of a carpenters shop he had seen once, and Snape's lab.

Crossing said workshop, they entered another room.

'Woah!' Harry couldn't help but exclaim. This was unreal! The room was far bigger on the inside than what he had thought from the outside.

Only, it didn't look like a room at all. It looked like they were outside, in a canyon or something. All around them were huge boulders, stones, trees, grass, there was even a river flowing through the middle. In one corner, was a greenhouse, much like Sprout's greenhouses. 'How is this possible?'

Harry winced at the stupidity of his question. Magic of course.

Mia grinned, 'Space-Extension Charms, Harry. Layers of them. And Weather-modifying charms of course, oxygen-layering charms etc.'

'Yes, yes, very good. Let's get to it,' Gregorovitch complained grumpily, putting the boxes next to each other on a rock nearby. 'Point away.'

'Why here?' Lily asked, 'And not outside like the others.'

Gregorovitch looked at her like she was stupid. 'Because I do not vant my shop destroyed!'

'My shop!' Mia exclaimed, glaring at her grandfather at what she perceived was an injustice. 'Go on, Harry.'

She handed him a wand… or tried to when Gregorovitch slapped her hand away. Harry chuckled amusedly.

'These are all wands with either rare woods or rare cores. Some are experimental,' Mia said. 'Thus, they would produce a wide range of magic than normal wands.'

'Is that legal?!' Sirius exclaimed, and James readily agreed with his best friend.

'Why?' Harry asked, curious as to what effects rarity could have on wands.

'Because phoenix feathers, unicorn hairs, or dragon heartstrings only produce the most consistent magic. In other words, the most standard magic. It is highly unlikely that one of these cores produce very destructive magic,' she said, implying that the wands her grandfather had now brought had said ability.

He wasn't the only one to get that implication, as Lily shifted uneasily. James and Sirius too had nervous looks on their faces as opposed to the hopeful ones of before.

'Here,' she handed him a dark brown wand, that almost looked black, with a bulbous end of the handle, 'Fir and kelpie hair, 11 inches.'

Immediately Mykew took it away, 'Norwegian Oak, Erumpent Tail, 11 and half inches.' Harry had no idea what the hell an erumpent was.

A rather greyish wand in colour, which with a wave, broke a large chunk of stone out of a nearby boulder with a bang.

'No!' Mia almost instantly removed it from his hand. 'Here, Ebony with Manticore spike, 12 inches. Quite rare…'

Harry took the jet-black wand in his hand and the wand instantly let out a croon, but it felt highly uncomfortable, as if wanting to devour Harry. He instantly let it go and the odd sensation stopped.

'Hmm. I had thought this might be it…,' Mia said, looking at the wand as if suspicious. 'But you clearly didn't like the feel of it…'

'Thank Merlin!' Sirius exclaimed behind him.

'Yeh. Can you imagine. Manticore spike! Such a dark wand,' James glared at the girl as if she had personally harmed him. 'Why can't he have a normal wand?'

The glare as well as the man himself went utterly ignored, much to his chagrin.

'My husband is right, I would much prefer Harry to have a safer wand,' Lily said, looking from Harry to the excited girl.

Harry resisted the urge to growl at her, much like a manticore. Mia only rolled her eyes as Mykew replied, 'It doesn't matter vhat you vant. Vhat matters is the vand that choozes him.'

'Alder, Horned Serpent horn,' Mykew handed him a rather thick, bulbous, light brown coloured wand without a precise handle. Thankfully, the only thing that happened was a large chunk off rock blasted off.

'Two last wands now,' Mia said, looking at the two boxes on the rock.

'Three,' Mykew took a very dark black box out of his cloak.

Mia's eyes widened immediately as she recognised what it was. 'Is that…?'

Mykew nodded to her and then pointed Harry to try the two wands.

'Cherry and Thestral hair core, 12 ¼ inches,' Mykew pointed to the rather pinkish looking pretty wand, quite unlike the rough ones he had shown him until now.

There was a gasp from behind him including a 'Merlin please no!' from James which too went ignored by the wandmaker and Harry. Mia though glared at the man for his constant interruptions, no doubt itching to hex him. Her hand repeatedly twitched towards her wand on her thigh holster.

'Thestral?' Harry asked, not knowing what they were.

'Yes, Harry,' Mia replied, 'They're winged, horse-like creatures. Only able to seen by those who have seen death… and comprehended it… Very rare cores and powerful.'

Harry nodded, taking the wand in his hand. Instantly, there was a neighing sound, the wand heated up considerably, almost burning Harry's hand, leaving an angry red patch on his palm.

'Ugh!' Harry handed it back, glaring at the offensive creation, making Mia giggle.

'Not funny…,' Harry mumbled and cradled his hand but not for long. Just as Lily was about to take out her wand, Mia was quicker with hers. Taking Harry's hand in her, she waved her wand, muttered what seemed like a German incantation and the burnt soothed instantly, almost disappearing.

'Thanks, Mia,' Harry replied, looking at the second, last opened box.

Mykew picked it out from its sleeve and offered the deep, rich brown wand to Harry, 'Mahogany twist, Chimaera brainstem, 12 ¾ inches… very hard to acquire… even harder to kill.'

Almost instantly there was a loud, large blast and Harry was thrown off his feet with a bang, letting go off the wand. 'Shit!' he cursed.

'Harry!' Lily yelled, but Mia was quicker.

Harry slammed into a nearby boulder, and winced almost instinctively but it felt like falling on a cushion. 'Wow,' Harry said, getting up and thoroughly amazed that he hadn't broken a few bones.

'What the hell are you trying to do!' James yelled at Mia but Harry silenced him a glare.

'Shut up,' Mia added, 'I told you these wands have unconventional cores!'

'The last one, Harry,' Mia said, taking the black box almost reverently from her grandfather and slowly opening it.

Harry was almost overcome by the anxiousness of the wait. He could feel that this would be it. She had told him in her letter that his blood had reacted with two wands, one much stronger than the other. The less strong one he assumed was the manticore one.

'Merlin's beard!' Harry exclaimed.

The wand on the black velvet box was the most beautiful he had ever scene. The wand was the most unusual one he had scene, amongst the countless he had tried both in Ollivander's shop and here.

On the first glance, it was a pure white wand that lay on the black velvet bed. Almost as soon as she removed the lid, the wand started quivering then its quivers increased into vibrations and then into considerable tremors and shakes.

Even before Harry had gone near it, the wand, still in the box let out a loud shriek that sounded rather like an eagle followed by a roar and a growl, of a lion a jaguar maybe…

'What the hell!' James exclaimed.

There was a loud crack, the sound thunder rumbling, and the wand with lightning speed rushed towards Harry who instinctively caught in his right hand.

The rumbling of thunder instantly turned into roars of thunder as the tip of the wand glowed a very sharp, electric blue, getting more and more, sending shocks up into his hand and arm. Knowing what he had to do, Harry thrust the wand at a large boulder a few feet away from them.

With a crack and a roar, the collected electricity became lightning and large bolt emanated from the tip and fired onto the boulders.

With a deafening blast, like mortar fire, the large stone boulders burst into smaller pieces, some turning into dust, leaving a large black scorch mark on the floor where the boulder used to be.

Harry laughed, louder than he ever had in his life. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life. A feeling of utter completeness, fulfilment, satisfaction. Of unbridled power at the tip of his fingertips. He could tell the wand was pleased to be united with him.

'What the hell was that?!' Sirius yelled, looking from Harry, whose laughter had by now turned into insane cackles that put all three of them on edge. It was scarily to similar to someone they have all had the misfortune of knowing, and fighting.

'What's the wand made of?' a similarly worried Lily asked the girl who was now hugging her son. And he was hugging her back, something that simultaneously confused her, made her glad and angry, and more than a little jealous.

'See, I told you,' Mia pointed at her grandfather, still grinning. 'Congratulations, Harry!'

'Thanks, Mia,' Harry's cackles died down as he came down from his high.

'Yes, yes you did,' Gregorovitch smirked. 'I never thought I would sell this wand! Well… not after… well done, boy.'

'Thank you,' Harry repeated and took the time to gaze lovingly at his wand. Unlike every other single wand, he had tried, this one looked like a long, strip of white bark torn from a tree – except only one side of it.

The strip of bark, turned and twisted, like a helix. It had no handle and no pommel, just a long, twisted and curved white blade, coming up to a pointy end. Unlike his first observation when the wand was in the box, shaking, this time he clearly saw what was a long, blue feather that looked to be either painted or embedded in the body of the wood.

And then the blue changed to gold and then back, highlighting the three thorns on the length of bark strip, a few inches apart. He supposed from the one end to the first thorn could be considered the handle.

Even though the wand like incredibly bendy and weak, it was the exact opposite. It was quite rigid. Hard. Unbending, which Harry thought was quite weird seeing how thin the bark looked. But it was the most beautiful, rustic wand he had ever scene. And he much preferred it to the highly polished ones that Ollivander has.

'What is it made of?' James asked, looking quite suspiciously from Harry to the wand in his hands to Gregorovitch.

Mykew took the wand from Harry, and held it quite reverently, 'It iz one of de most powerful vands I have ever made. I created it when I was comparing the potency of phoenix feathers to thunderbird feathers for vands. There iz only one brother wand to dis.'

'But what is it?' Harry asked, now even more curious as to what could make his wand so special.

'Your wand, is made from one of the oldest Yew trees in Europe, which is on the Durmstrang grounds. With core of rare blue thunderbird tail feather surrounding…,' but Harry was so excited that he interrupted him earning a glare.

'Blue thunderbird?' he asked, looking longingly at the wand which was still in Mykew's hand.

'Yes, you didn't let me finish…,' he chastised Harry who looked down in embarrassment. Never had he ever lost control in such a way. Excited or not. 'Now. The core is thunderbird feather wrapped around a Nundu heartstring.'

Lily gasped behind just as Sirius whispered a shocked, 'Merlin's beard!'

James however, growled, 'Absolutely not! My son will not have such a dark wand!'

Gregorovitch and Mia both turned to look at the man as if he had asked for their kidneys. 'What a fool you are. Wands aren't dark or light! It's the wizard who chooses what magic he uses!'

'Still, Harry, won't you prefer a normal wand?' Lily asked, looking hopefully at her son.

'No!' was the resounding reply.

'Tell him!' Mia urged her grandfather as they all walked back to the front of the shop, noting there were a few other people present as well now.

'You saw their reaction,' Mykew shook his head in refusal, making Mia even angrier than she already was.

'Tell me what?' Harry asked, looking from his friend to her grandfather, ignoring the two man-children grumbling behind him.

Gregorovitch grunted something in Bulgarian to Mia and moved to assist the new customers that had shown up.

'Harry, I'll owl you the other information when there are less ears to listen in,' she said, seeing as the two other families had recognised James and Sirius and by extension, Harry himself, though they probably thought he was Alexander, by the way the two teenage girls were looking at him.

Harry as usual was oblivious to them their stares and was looking at Mia pack his wand in the black box, and then in a brown paper bag. 'Here, I'll include a wand servicing kit and a wand holster for free.'

'Thanks, Mia!' he greatly appreciated the gesture and didn't inform her that he already had a holster courtesy of Narcissa Malfoy. 'How much is the wand?'

Mia looked towards her grandfather who was now handing wands to the two girls one by one, and repairing broken shelves and shattered glasses with his own wand.

'A hundred galleons,' Gregorovitch said, only to elicit a sharp intake of breath from the two girls in front of him a yell of 'WHAT?!' from James.

'I refuse to pay so much for that wand!' he yelled, looking absolutely resolute in his decision.

'He's right old man, it's not a normal wand in the first place,' Sirius as usual agreed with him. 'What kind of a wand has two cores!'

Harry rolled his eyes and before their stupidity could embarrass him more, he said, 'Don't worry, Mia. I'll pay.'

He had no intention to rob them off fairly earned money. It had taken Gregorovitch almost two months to find the core and make this somehow modify the premade wand for him.

'Harry, please think again. This is a lot of money which you can use for something else. Books maybe,' Lily tried to reason with her son, already afraid that they're carefully laid plans were falling to pieces before they're very eyes.

'Or pranks!' Sirius exclaimed.

Harry looked at him as if he was a moron. 'Are you an idiot? Spend money on a wand or pranks?'

Rolling his eyes at the stupid, moron he withdrew a pouch from within his robes, clearly labelled with the gold letters, '100 g.'

Mia waved her wand at the bags, and the coins floated out, probably a counting charm or something, as they organised themselves into 5 stacks of twenty galleons. She then put all the galleons into a safe.

'Thanks, Harry!' Mia grinned. 'And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Oh, and here my size. Why did you ask for that, Harry? Kind of weird, honestly.'

He chuckled and tucked in the piece of parchment she gave him, careful not to show Lily who had tried to peer into it.

'I won't and thanks Mia,' Harry replied and exited the shop, eager to get to the school already.

'Size for what, Harry?' Lily asked, curiously as they walked back towards Diagon Alley.

Harry, happier than he had ever, even momentarily decided to forego his annoyance with them, and replied honestly, looking back at her, innocently, 'Her cup size.'

'Wh… What?!' Lily spluttered incoherently for a moment as Sirius burst into raucous laughter just as James looked wide eyed at his son and then his wife, and instinctively backed away, already knowing what was to come.

'HARRY JAMES POTTER! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ASKED FOR HER CUP SIZE!' Lily screamed with her might, her face as red as her hair, making the entire street hear them.

'Way to go, Harry!' Sirius yelled from behind him and almost instantly he heard a pronounced 'uff!' akin to being elbowed in the stomach.

'Oh, come Lily, he's just getting a head start!' the man continued.

'EXACTLY. HE'S TOO YOUNG FOR THAT AND SHE'S TOO OLD FOR HIM!' Lily continued her rant, something about Potter genes and how she hoped Alexander wouldn't turn out like this.

Harry chuckled at the scene and confidently walked into Twilfitt and Tattings. He saw James and Sirius' noses wrinkled as if smelling something foul. He wondered why? It smelled quite nice in here, actually. Like lavender oil. He didn't even have to wait for a half a minute when a curly, blonde haired assistant was with him. 'Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Are you shopping for yourself today?'

'Hello, Victoria. And not today. I'm looking for a gift, actually,' Harry replied and she immediately realised what he meant, as he had informed her previously. 'Well then, let me show you are most recent ones.'

Half an hour later, much to Lily's posturing and chagrin, Harry had spent quite a bit of money on a dress for Mia and a generous for Victoria. Grinning, and happier than he had ever been, he confidently walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, eager to get to school and test out his new wand, safe in his holster.


	3. Wands and Trolls

Harry Potter was in love. Never before had felt this way. Never before had he felt the power at his very fingertips, begging to be released. His wand beckoned him to use it. To search out for powerful foes and as of yet, he had ignored it. Telling it there would come a time when they would get a chance to shine, to prove themselves, both the wand and him.

He didn't know but the wand somehow understood him. It listened to him somehow. If he had told it to others, they would have said he was crazy. But to say that all magic came easier to him, was complete bullshit. Yes, he could cast the 'lumos' charm now, as easy as saying ABC and transfigure a matchstick into a needle but that was the extent of what he had done.

That's not to say that he was disappointed with his wand. Yes, it was harder to work with, but he could channel magic easier with it, much easier than the willow one. With the willow wand, it was like trying to use a brick to force magic through.

This is what wands must feel like. But still, he had been worried when he felt a slight disconnect with it. But then, Mia's letter had explained it quite clearly.

His wand, yew and thunderbird feather surrounding a Nundu heartstring, was one of two wands. The second, the brother to his wand, had belonged to one of the previous Dark Lords.

According to Mia, and she had included references from 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' and various other books, both Nundu and Thunderbird respect only power. With Thunderbird's being strong enough in the air, and fast enough to even combat dragons, Nundu was the King of the land, being one of, if not the most dangerous magical creature to exist.

As such, the resulting wands, with their parts, although are very powerful but likewise, respecting only power, they require their master to prove him or herself to them. Hence, they are quite difficult to master, but once mastered, they would prove unfailingly loyal, and powerful.

Luckily, this was the last week in the month of October, and Harry had broken his wand on the third Friday, hence nobody saw his wand on the weekend, even though they probably realised he had gotten a new one, given that he had returned to school.

He had heard a few Slytherins grumbling at his return but he ignored them just as easily. Soon, they will realise what fools they had been. His priority now, was getting his magical skills up to par. Luckily, Draco and his fellow first years had something else to occupy their thoughts.

After the massive loss of points in three weeks, nearly hundred and fifty points, James Potter had refused to allow his son to be looked at as if he was a cause of it, by Gryffindors. Even though, he was. Hence, ever the unfair headmaster, Albus Dumbledore had given permission to Alexander Potter to own a broom, unlike all other first years in the school.

Not only that, but he had rubbed it in everyone's faces when Alex had gotten a broom shaped parcel at breakfast, which when opened turned out to be a Nimbus Two Thousand, much to everyone's awe and jealousy.

Expectedly, and quite understandably, Alexander had become the most hated person within Slytherin house, a close second being the Headmaster himself. Draco spent countless hours lamenting the fact how Alex Potter used his fame in the evillest ways and how the school was going to the dogs.

Unsurprisingly, many Slytherins agreed with the blonde ponce. Surprisingly, one of those was Daphne Greengrass. Surely, now that Slytherin who didn't have such a good broom, or even, a good seeker would find it even harder to beat Gryffindor during the first match of the season.

Alex Potter had been bragging how he was chosen as the Seeker for Gryffindor, much to the Slytherins chagrin. Of course, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this particular bragging of the boy was also backed up by some skill, which was quite expected seeing as he was trained by James Potter since he was seven.

Not only was Draco quite put out by Alexander's position on the team, which was another blatant example of favouritism – first years weren't allowed on quidditch teams – but others were quite perturbed by it as well.

Apparently, the school really was going to the dogs if they can't spot Draco's obvious talent as a seeker despite his father being who he was – Harry really didn't understand that logic – the prejudice against Slytherins was even higher than before.

That Harry could understand. It hadn't even been two months since school started and he could already see the pattern Narcissa told him about in Twilfitt and Tattings. None of the other students even deigned to talk to Slytherins, openly – being partners in Charms didn't count.

But he had noticed the frankly disturbing amount of points Professor McGonagall gave Gryffindors which when the Slytherins gave similar answers, didn't get awarded the same amount. Neither were the incidents of younger Slytherins being bullied looked at.

Of course, he was bullied left and right and nobody did anything but other than that, his informant in the Slytherin common room, had overheard Morag being bullied by some Gryffindors and even some Hufflepuffs once, which was only resolved when Millicent in all her…. Width – size – accompanied Morag everywhere she went.

But even with all of Draco's boasting about his skills, even Slytherins didn't actually think much of him, in quidditch terms. According to a conversation between Daphne and Tracey however – which had promptly subsided into whispers when they realised, he was sitting near, but his informant had told him anyway – Tracey was quite the seeker, her reflexes were on par if not better than even some second or third years.

The Slytherins might not like him – and surprisingly, he understood their reason – if they thought he was a good for nothing squib, ruining their house's reputation, but it was still his house. And it was with that in mind, that Harry walked briskly towards the greenhouse, his goal set.

People actually got off out of his way, instead of jeer at him no doubt because of the fire in his eyes – right eye still under glamour.

Greenhouse two apparently, was where Marcus Flint was serving detention today – remarkably, alongside the Weasley twins – something about bullying a Gryffindor or something.

Harry entered the greenhouse to see Marcus Flint, face scrunched up in disgust, elbow deep in what looked like soil of screaming, disgusting baby plants, ears under heavy mufflers. The Weasley twins however were on the other side of greenhouse dealing with Devil's Snare. Harry hated those things when they had learnt them earlier in the year.

'Mr. Potter,' Professor Sprout came up to him, her ears muffled as well. He presumed there was some charm on them to let her hear normally.

Harry hadn't really thought this through and as such didn't know that the Professor would be here as well. Quickly, he wracked up his brain to come up with something plausible.

Flint and the twins looked up at him, surprised to see someone coming to the greenhouses voluntarily when others were serving detention. It wasn't a secret to anyone how Professor Sprout liked to rope in anyone who thought they could just come and chat with their friends in detention to help with whatever menial task she gives.

'Yes,' Harry replied, looking at her and then Flint, whose face scrunched up in confusion, 'Professor Snape gave me a message to give to Flint.'

'Well then, tell me and I'll pass it on,' Sprout said, with a knowing look in her eyes, 'Unless of course, you want to join him?'

'No no,' Harry was quick to dispel that notion, 'It's confidential, Professor. About quidditch!'

Well, they do say that the best lies have a hint of truth in them. The Weasley twins looked extremely interested in Harry's conversation now, and Flint having shut up his baby-plant sent them a glare, presumably to keep their noses out of Slytherin business.

'Oh, very well, then,' she sighed, resignedly, 'Mr. Flint. You have three minutes to see to whatever it is.'

Flint hurried out of there as fast as he could, presumably to get away from the numerous screaming baby-plants.

'Merlin, I hate those bloody things!' he cursed, sending them a vicious glare.

'What are they?' Harry asked, not particularly interested but not wanting to be roped into doing the same thing.

'Mandrakes!' he spat the word with as much venom as he usually put into the word, 'Gryffindor' and Draco did in 'Potter'. 'What do you want, Potter?'

Harry looked around to see if anyone was nearby, trying to overhear what he rightfully considered as Slytherin secrets. 'I presume you've heard about Alexander's appointment as Gryffindor Seeker.'

His face instantly developed into one of loathing, 'Of course, I have,' he looked at Harry as if he was stupid. 'As if anybody could avoid Malfoy's moaning about it!'

'Yes, well I may have a solution for it,' Harry replied cryptically, with another glance around for good measure.

'Chh,' Flint scoffed, 'You mean you want me to Seeker, for this pissing contest you have with your brother.'

For once Harry was genuinely confused, 'What? No of course, not. Look, we both know Terrence isn't that good…'

He let out a harsh laugh, 'That's putting it lightly. Get to your point, Potter.'

'I have another candidate in mind,' Harry smirked, seeing that he had Flint's undivided attention now. 'First year. A girl.'

'WHAT?!' Flint yelled, 'Are you insane, Potter. Stop wasting my time.'

Harry rolled his eyes at the boy's stupidity, 'I'm not. And just here me out!', he yelled as Flint was about to walk away.

'Do you know what the rest of the house is going to do when they realise that the new seeker is a first girl,' he whispered harshly, looking around to see if the twins had somehow snuck out from under Sprout's watchful gaze.

'Who the hell cares?' Harry asked. 'I thought you were a Slytherin!'

'Watch it, Potter!' Flint growled, 'I'm much better than you at magic and you don't even have a wand!' Flint flicked a wand out, and muttered a spell under his breath. 'Silencing charm.'

Harry sighed. Looks like he was going to have to spell it out for this thick-headed moron. 'Then act like a Slytherin! We use any means necessary to achieve our ends. And the rest of the houses won't even suspect it when even Slytherin won't know it.'

'You're suggesting we reveal two secrets in one ago?' he asked Harry, admittedly confused. But then he thought about it for a second and realised, the plan wasn't actually that bad. 'Girls are notorious gossips, Potter! How the hell do we keep her mouth shut.'

'You leave that to me,' Harry replied and internally, he was already scheming on how to get her to stay quiet about this. 'I'll give you ten galleons if she isn't good enough!'

'Fine, I'll want to try her out first. Tomorrow. Against Higgs,' Flint whispered, and walked away, only turning to say, 'And I mean it, Potter, not a word about Warrington to anyone.'

Harry frowned. What in the world was he talking about, Warrington? What has that oaf got to do with anything? That was when he saw the slight shimmer in the air a few feet away from them. Some was disillusioned! Very clever, Flint. Very clever. And here Harry thought he was just a moron.

He had religiously studied and finished all the homework and the history of magic and herbology lesson he missed on Friday, on the weekend. And it came as an unexpected boon to him, that the whole next weekend until Halloween, was to be spent revisiting theoretical topics in Charms, Transfiguration and Defence, not having to practice magic in class.

Harry had thought about it constantly ever since he had gotten his wand. Yes, he was going to prove himself worthy of Professor LeFay's mentorship by mastering the Reductor Curse. In that regard, the room of the seventh floor, which he still hadn't figured out was called, came into incredible use. Not only was he able to practise the Reductor Curse, but also the jinxes which had been cast on him repeatedly.

Yes, it would be incredibly easy to show them that he wasn't a squib by actually jinxing someone in the common room, or in the hallways, but after considerable thought, Harry had decided against it. It would serve no purpose besides shutting them up. And he was a Slytherin first and foremost.

Yes, he would eventually have to show his hand but for now, he would conceal his ability, at least until he became sufficient enough with practical magic. Or more precisely, until he won his wand's allegiance. If he showed his hand before then, before he was ready, and they correctly thought that he was attempting to fight back, the number of his enemies would increase monumentally. As would the jinxes cast on him.

As of yet, he had been hexed with the antler growing hex, the lips vanishing hex, the tripping hex, the hair fall jinx, the leg locker curse, the jelly legs jinx by the Gryffindors and some even by Slytherins. And until he could do all of them perfectly, he refused to show his hand. Particularly, since there was a duelling tournament scheduled this year.

And of course, nobody had even thought to inform him. Apparently, it was announced during one the dinners. Why would a squib be expected to know anything duelling, much less participate in it? What was more troubling though, was how would he be able to find out who had jinxed him. Often in the hallways, people would jinx him and then mingle in the crowds.

That and what in the hell was he supposed to do for this supposed test in a week for Professor LeFay? Would it just have to show her that he can successfully cast the reductor curse?

While Harry wasn't flying just for the sake of flying, or practising magic in the Room – the unnamed seventh floor room – he was in the library, slaving away on magical theories and texts, often those more complicated than first years.

Of course, he had asked, and was vehemently denied access to the Restricted Section, even for only the theoretical knowledge. Harry was hoping that would be something that Qetsiyah could help him with.

As he was in the library so often, Harry usually saw the Slytherin girls, Daphne, Tracey and sometimes Morag. Tracey was sometimes brave enough to talk to him in private sometimes, but never in public. Her hesitation, Harry actually understood. He had realised, being a half-blood in Slytherin was never easy. And she too was scoffed at – within the confines of the common room of course – by many of the purebloods.

Yet she persevered and didn't let it affect her in the least. At least visibly. Daphne was quite vocally defensive about her, making another thing about her that he adored. Morag would sometimes smile slightly to him in public and in private, and then when he would smile back, she would just grow red. Often, he was tempted to ask if she had a fever or something. It really was quite concerning, actually.

Of course, another constant resident in the library was Granger. A few weeks ago, he had asked her if he could sit on the same table, or tried to before she snapped at him and told him to go away, and that she wasn't going to help him with his homework. Why would he even need her help? He was perfectly capable of doing research by himself.

But he was never one to give up. Not in the least. And the next, he done the same and the next day and the day after that. And eventually, she resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to give up, not until he got his yes.

So, he sat with her on the same table, and they studied in companionable silence, until one would get up and leave, and they would resume their study the next day, in the same spots as before. Harry was getting quite used to it, really.

And of course, his sitting in silence with Granger for a week straight, hadn't gone unnoticed, by the Slytherins or the Gryffindors. The Gryffindors jinxed him repeatedly but he refused to be baited by them. In the event, that they were caught by McGonagall, they were just told not to use magic in the hallways and taken points off, usually something as measly as five.

Snape however, was much fairer and stricter. He refused to take points any less than ten, and with detention. But he could tell Snape was disappointed that Harry didn't retaliate.

He wasn't unsubtle, Gryffindor thug. If he jinxed back, he would end up in detention with McGonagall the first second she got wind of it. But he was a snake.

In a tv show, that Dudley watches, Harry clearly remembered Sensei Kreese's lesson to his ex-student Johnny Lawrence.

'_What the hell do you want?' Johnny asks Kreese, crossing his arms, glaring at his ex-sensei. _

_Kreese sighs, wondering where he went wrong with his most prized student, 'Are you familiar with … brumation?'_

_Lawrence shakes his head, no. _

_Kreese intertwines his fingers and imparts yet another lesson that his student seems to have forgotten over the years, 'In the winter, some animals bury themselves in a hole and sleep there for months…' _

'_It's called hibernation,' Johnny rolls his eyes. _

'_No. That's for warm-blooded creatures. For cold-blood, like snakes, it's called brumation. The snake buries himself in a hole. The only difference is, the snake doesn't sleep. He stays awake. All winter. Waiting for right moment to emerge. And that moment is now.' _

Harry was shaken out of informative reminiscing, by the approaching Weasel, who by some miracle, was alone, 'Hey Granger, what are you doing here with the slimy snake?'

'SSSHH!' came Madam Pince's rebuke.

He saw Hermione roll her eyes and turn towards the approaching gangly, redhead.

'Well, well, well, Weasel. What a surprise, you actually know the way to the library,' Harry smirked as Weasley snarled at him. Merlin was he easy to goad.

'Shut it, snake! Granger, you're better off with Gryffindor. Not no good Slytherins!' Weasel commented, 'Why do you study so much anyway. You're already top of the class, unlike the squib here.'

'And you don't study at all. Surprising that you even know how to read,' Harry resisted the urge to grin as Weasel bristled, his nose flaring.

'Shut up! Traitor!' he growled.

'SHHHH!'

'Ronald! Quiet!' Hermione looked around fearfully to see if Madam Pince was approaching and turned her glare on the boy. 'If you don't have anything to do, then leave!'

'Fine. Stay here with this evil slimy snake!' he snarled at her.

'That is it! Out, all three of you!' Madam Pince stormed up to their table, and glowered at them. 'I will have no house rivalries in my library!'

'But… But…,' Hermione looked close to crying, looking from the librarian to Harry and Weasel who were both glaring at each other, as they Madam Pince chased them all out.

Harry didn't care… for now. He could always sneak in later.

Hermione just stood there, dumbfounded that she had, for the first time in her life, had been kicked out of a library. Neither Harry nor Weasley paid her much attention.

'Evil?' Harry raised his eyebrow. 'How so Weasel?'

'You see what you idiots have done! You got us kicked out of the library!' Hermione yelled, glaring at them both. Fortunately, they were a way away from the library now so there was no risk of Madam Pince coming after them.

'It's obvious isn't it, Potter. You want to be like your slimy snakey pals, all wannabe death eaters. Like all the previous ones!' Weasel spat. 'You are a shame to your house, Potter!'

'And what would you know of house pride, Weasel? To reckless and stupid to study, forever hanging off of Alexander's robes. Can't even get a wand yourself. Tell me, what have Gryffindors actually done? Hmm?' he asked, wondering if this idiot, moron even knew what he was talking about.

'Huh?!' came the ever so eloquent reply.

Harry rolled his eyes, 'What have they achieved that is noteworthy in history? Nothing.'

'LIER! Gryffindors are heroes!' Weasley yelled, 'They fought against You-Know-Who with Dumbledore!'

'Oh yes, how brave you are Weasel. Can't even say his name. Some lion. More like a scared cat,' Harry snarled at the idiot who was getting redder by the minute.

'That's actually not true, Harry!' Hermione finally butted into the argument. 'Dumbledore was a Gryffindor.'

'Harry, don't bother with this moron. Nothing can get through his thick head,' came the sound from behind them. Harry turned to see Pansy, approaching with Millicent and Morag, carrying a couple of books. 'What does Granger even know about our world?'

Well, at least they weren't going to taunt him when Gryffindors were readily available. 'Name one Gryffindor other than Dumbledore in the past who has done any significant. Just one. This one's for you Granger. We already know Weasel has the intelligence of a flobberworm,' Pansy said, and snickered at her own joke along with Millicent. Morag remained quiet although there was a slight smile on her lips.

'Why you filth…?' Weasley was just about to start jinxing, or trying to since he could actually pull of a spell to save his life, even with his new wand, when Harry interrupted.

'Can't think of any, can you?' Harry asked, smirking at the widening eyes of the bushy haired girl. 'Well then let me inform you idiots. What you call evil to Slytherins is called ambition. Of the past thirty-five Ministers of Magic since 1707 when the Ministry was formed, twenty of them have been Slytherins, eight have been Ravenclaws and seven have been Hufflepuffs. Not a single, bloody Gryffindor has been Minister.'

By now they had attracted quite a sizeable crowd around them, with people listening to Harry impart valuable knowledge. He had no doubt he was going to get hexed today before he made it to Charm's in half an hour, but he had had enough of people calling Slytherins evil.

Pansy shrieked in laughter behind him, and he ignored the dumbfounded look on Granger's face.

'There have been have sixty-seven Chief Warlocks since 1544 since the Wizengamot was formed. Out of those, only six have been Gryffindors, with Dumbledore the current one. Out of those six, four were completely useless. One of the Gryffindors was even contacted by a muggle friend Minister of health if he could cure his wife's cancer. What a moron!

Of the remaining sixty Chiefs, thirty-seven were Slytherins, thirteen were Ravenclaws, seven were Hufflepuffs. And do you know who the remaining three were?'

Hermione shook her head vigorously.

'I thought not. One of those, Dumbledore's immediate predecessor was Lord Pollux Black, who was home schooled ever since he was young. The second was Harfang Potter, who didn't even go to Hogwarts but went to Durmstrang! A school known for teaching the Dark Arts! The last was Alfick Gamp, who went to school the Castelobruxo in Brazil. So, tell me, what have Gryffindors actually done that merits their so-called status as heroes? What have they contributed to society?'

They all stood there in silence as Hermione opened and closed her gaping mouth like a goldfish, while Weasley ears were becoming increasingly red by the second. 'You're a liar, Potter!', he yelled, trying to take out his wand from within robes but somehow got it stuck.

And for the first time since school had started did the students of Hogwarts see Hadrian Potter laugh in that unsettling cackle of his.

'Weasley!' Snape suddenly appeared out of nowhere. 'Ten points from Gryffindor for trying to hex a student! And ten points for being an idiot!'

'WHAT?!' Weasel yelled, 'That's not fair! He's making things up to make Gryffindor look bad!'

Pansy let out a loud laugh, and even Morag giggled. Harry snickered and saw the gleam in Snape's eyes. 'Every word he said was true. If you don't believe it, then read up on it. But judging from your useless essays – where according to you the only difference between grated and sliced ginger is that one is grater and other is sliced – I seriously doubt if you can read at all.'

That prompted another round of laughter from the crowd of students, some of them Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors looked increasingly vexed however.

'Get to your classes, all of you!'

The students hurried to get out of Snape's way but Harry wasn't done. Satisfied, Harry turned back and walked with the rest of the Slytherins, coincidentally in front of the few Gryffindors and in front of Snape.

There was a roar of laughter from behind them and then a scream of horror and they turned to see a very, extremely and utterly bald Ronald Weasley, touching his head in horror.

'MY HAIR! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY HAIR!' Weasel screamed in utter terror, as red as a tomato as all around him people pointed and jeered. 'POTTER! IT WAS HIM!' he pointed at Harry, furious.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at the accusation. 'With what? My mastery of wandless magic? And didn't you say I was a squib!'

Instead of at Harry, the roar of laughter at Weasel increased even as Snape's gleam got even more vicious, 'Weasley! Ten points from Gryffindor for accusing students without evidence!' And with that, Harry safely tucked his wand inside his robe, away from the carefully placed hole he made in his pocket.

Ten minutes later, the Slytherins sat in the Charms classroom, with Harry in his usual place beside Parvati.

They were treated with an odd sight of Tracey struggling to hold in her laughter, desperately covering her mouth with her hand as she sat beside Weasel, with a Hogwarts hat he had somehow gotten from somewhere.

Weasley was turned towards Alexander who sat behind him and grumbled, throwing dark looks at Harry every once in a while. Draco however, had no such reservations as Tracey and frequently blew Weasel's hat off with a well-placed, knockback jinx, revealing his head, as bald as a boiled egg.

'Oi Weasel! Can't you family even afford hair now,' Draco taunted and several Slytherins snickered and some like Crabbe and Goyle guffawed.

'Honestly, why breed like rabbits when they can't even afford to put hair on them,' Pansy added and shrieked in laughter at her own joke, much like the rest of the Slytherins. Even Daphne had a slight smirk on her face.

Even Harry snickered somewhat, much to the narrowed eyes of Parvati.

'SHUT IT MALFOY!' Weasel yelled, jumping up from his seat. Harry doubted if the red colour had abated since the incident at the library.

'You too Parkinson!' Alexander jumped off his seat too and glared at the pair.

'What is going on here?!' Lily yelled, her red hair flowing in anger behind her. 'Mr. Weasley, what happened to your hair?', she asked, inadvertently starting another round of raucous laughter in the room.

Weasel immediately turned towards Harry and furiously pointed at him. 'IT WAS POTTER! HE JINXED ME IN FRONT OF THE LIBRARY. EVEN GRANGER WAS THERE AND SNAPE TOOK POINTS OFF OF GRYFFINDOR FOR NO REASON!'

Lily turned to look at Harry, surprised. Whether she was surprised that he could actually do magic or that he had jinxed someone in the hallway, he wasn't sure. Harry rolled his eyes. Trust Weasel to throw a tantrum.

'Was it you?' Parvati whispered to him.

Harry could see the others were also listening to them. 'I was walking in front of Weasel with Pansy and Morag, and I didn't even take my wand out, much less around.'

'Somehow, you did it with some dark magic!' Weasley yelled yet again, and in his anger as he huffed, he knocked the hat off his head, again, causing more snickering.

'It's true! He could have done it from behind Ron and then snuck to the front,' Alexander said to his mother, willing her to do something unlike Snape.

Lily looked at Harry disappointedly. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to check your wand.'

Harry narrowed his eyes at her, 'What for, Professor?'

'You children might not be aware of this, but there is a way to check what the last few spells from your wand have been,' Lily walked over and stretched out her hand.

'You can just admit it, you know,' Parvati whispered, 'It'll make it so much easier.'

Harry shook his head, 'No, thanks. It's alright.' He could see the smirk on Draco's face and the smug grin on both Alexander and Weasel's faces. Harry sighed, seeing no other way out of this. 'Fine.'

He took out his wand, seeing the surprised looks from many of the students in the class, who hadn't seen his new wand. In fact, no one had. This was the first time he had shown it to them.

Alexander laughed out of loud, 'What kind of wand is that, looks like a twig!'

Weasel roared in laughter at Alex's joke which Harry didn't deign with a reply.

He saw the surprise on her when she held it in her hand, not expecting it to be so rigid and unyielding. She took her own wand out and intoned, 'Priori Incantato!'

The sudden silver grey, smoke emanated from the surface of the wand which then formed into a matchstick becoming a needle, and then an echo of the wand lighting up, albeit slightly.

'I see,' Lily frowned at the images but handed it back to him. 'Well, Mr. Weasley. It looks like he really didn't jinx you.'

Weasel wasn't the only one who looked confused at the sight. Alexander, Draco and even Pansy couldn't believe what they had just seen.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at their stupidity. Did they really expect him to keep the echo on his wand? It's like they kept forgetting he was a Slytherin. Not a stupid, dunderhead Gryffindor. It had been worth it, asking Tonks to cast Deleterius on his wand, removing the evidence of the most recent jinxes he had been practising.

'But… But… It had to have been him!' Weasley pouted, looking more confused by the second.

'Weasley, the evidence is right in front of you,' Tracey told her partner. 'Don't accuse Slytherins just because…'

That prompted a round of agreements from his fellow Slytherins first years while Lily looked torn between what to do.

'Mr. Weasley, unfortunately, there isn't a charm to go hair back when it has been jinxed off,' Lily informed him much to his horror. 'You will have to go Madam Pomfrey after the class to get a potion.'

'What?!' Weasel yelled, sending his partner a look of deep loathing, 'So you bloody snakes think you can get away with everything!'

'Mr. Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor for insulting your partner,' Lily sighed. 'And she didn't say that. Merely that there's no evidence you were jinxed by a Slytherin, at least in this class.'

'Weasel, I suggest you calm your idiotic temper,' Harry said from his place a few rows behind, making Parvati look at him in surprise. No wonder – he usually stayed out of class arguments. 'You're beginning to look like an overripe tomato!'

The class fell into hysterics, even the Gryffindors laughing at Weasel's expense.

Weasel spluttered even more, and getting even more redder, which prompted Alexander to lean forward and say something in Weasel's ear which caused him to grin. Ah, they're plotting, he realised. Rather unsubtle about it.

'Unfortunately, after numerous complaints I have gotten from mixing houses, you will all with sit with your own housemates,' his mother informed them and then rearranged them so they were sitting in rows of three or more people, instead of in pairs, but not before sending Harry a disappointed look.

As Harry got his books and parchment out to make notes, he realised how boring the class was actually getting. All they were doing for the first of the double periods was making notes on the levitation charm, its history and its previous version. Harry didn't realise when his eyes had started drooping.

_Soft music played, as if fingers barely grazing piano keys. _

_Loo-li, Loo-li, Loo-li, Lai-Lay  
Loo-li, Loo-li, Loo-li, Lai-Lay  
Loo-li, Loo-li, Loo-li, Lai-Lay_

_Lay down your head, and I'll sing you a lullaby  
Back to the years of Loo-li, Lai-Lay  
And I'll sing you to sleep  
And I'll sing you to tomorrow  
Bless you with love for the road that you go_

_May you sail far to the far fields of fortune  
With diamonds and pearls, at your head and your feet  
And may you need never to banish misfortune  
May you find kindness in all that you meet _

_The voice was soft, raspy and sultry, a woman. Harry smiled softly, looking at the vague image of the woman but the only thing he could make out was a lot of black hair of the woman singing to him. _

'_Mr. Potter,' someone said, interrupting the woman's soothing song. He frowned, willing them to go away. _

'MR. POTTER!' Lily yelled, unable to believe that he had fallen asleep during her lecture.

'Uff!' there was a sharp pain in his side, like elbowed. Harry jerked awake.

'What?!' he looked around, momentarily confused when he saw the snickering Gryffindors, and the Slytherins looking at him like they wanted to kill him. What just happened?

'Having a pleasant dream, were you?!' he looked towards the front to see a very irate Lily Potter, glaring at him. He gulped. How in the hell was he going to talk his way out of this.

So, he did the only thing that came to him, 'Yes, it was,' he replied, still somewhat confused as to what in the world happened.

The Gryffindors laughed even more as the Slytherins bristled further. Oh no. This time he really was getting it, and he actually deserved it this time.

'Ten points from Slytherin for falling asleep in class!' she looked incensed. 'Now get to work!' she pointed at the feather.

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of the fuzz clouding it. To his right, Tracey looked amused but Draco's look promised vengeance.

'What are we meant to be doing?' he whispered to Tracey, who chuckled behind her hand.

'Levitating the feather, what else,' she replied, even as Daphne shook her, as if he was a simpleton who couldn't be helped.

He grinned, 'It would be much more exciting if he were levitating Daffodils, that is way I'd be able to focus on my Daphne….' She whirled around to give an icy glare that would have frozen the Nile. 'I mean Daffodil!'

Tracey giggled, practising the wand movement, 'You really do like annoying her, don't you?'

Harry smirked, 'Well, what can I say, she's just so cute when she's angry!'

Daphne looked like she wanted to smother with a pillow, 'Sod off, Potter!'

Harry only grinned in return, and got back to his feather. So, he had apparently tuned out most of the incessant woman's lecture but if he was getting this right – and he was – the wand movement was a swish and a flick.

Wand movements, he had read in several advanced books on wand and magical theory, were largely irrelevant. Especially in subjects like charms and transfiguration, at least for the basic spells like they were learning.

According to 'And Introduction to Dark Forces' which he found in the Room, wand movements, were needed to mould internal magic in a certain way, for a certain spell, which was then aided by an incantation, which was basically the last movement – only oral – for the magic to be released and create an effect. Which was the spell.

But that could be overlooked if the wizard in question has sufficient mental prowess, focus and most of all, power. And since Harry wasn't sure of the first two, and was certain he was strong enough yet, he would have to rely on wand movements.

But there was an inherent flaw in the concept of movements, he realised. They give the game away and tip you opponent off to the spell, or at least the type of spell, you're going to use, allowing them a split-second advantage to avoid the spell, counter it or shield against it.

His point was further validated when everyone around him either yelled, or loudly incantated, 'Wingardium Leviosa!' in varying levels of pronunciation.

'What are you doing?!' Tracey hissed at him furiously when she saw what he was doing. He was practising with pointing his finger.

'Potter, you look like a fool!' Zabini hissed in his ear from behind him.

Apparently, the Slytherins did care after all. How surprising. And it took only took them two months to show that.

Having already decided not to show his hand for now, only practised the wand movement, and how to pronounce the incantation, either with his finger or the stick he had picked up. 'I'm practising the wand movement, can't you see,' he whispered back.

'Then do it with a bloody wand,' Tracey replied, subtly turning towards Daphne a little bit, but it made it clear to Harry that the conversation was over.

Harry however, paid no attention to her order. He was going to go about this his way and not forced into it by her, or Greengrass or Zabini.

His thoughts were distracted when he heard Granger pompously say in that infuriating haughty tone of hers, 'Stop, stop, stop! You're going to take someone's eye out!'

She was sitting beside Weasel, with Alexander on the other side of him, 'Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Leh-vee-OH-sa, not Levi-O-Saah.'

Harry rolled his eyes. She was right but Granger had this inane quality to say things in a way that made it clear how stupid she thought everyone was. Granted, they were stupid but she was terribly unsubtle. Or maybe, she just didn't care.

Harry ignored them, as Alexander's feather was already levitating – albeit slightly and Granger and Weasel bickered back and forth.

He concentrated on his own feather, focusing on his own. Having practised the wand movement with his stick, he refused to take his wand out so others even his own house members could make fun of it.

Yes, he knew that he was doing fairly well with practical magic, in his own training sessions, but still he was only able to cast certain jinxes only about half the time. He refused to console himself by thinking that it had only been a week since he had gotten a decent wand.

No, he would not slip into mediocrity. He outright refused to waste his talent and his magic like the Weasel. He was not that stupid. But for all his supposed ambition, the main problem was, he didn't know how to go about it. Perhaps, Tessa might be able to help him with that, if she took him on as a mentee that is.

Daphne Greengrass, cast a subtle and discrete glance at the Squib of Hogwarts as she too struggled somewhat with levitating the feather more than a couple of inches. The boy not only managed to annoy her thoroughly ever since she had met him, but he had quickly become a nuisance. An outright, blood nuisance. And she may pretend to not see it, and not care, but the truth was, her best and only friend, Tracey had taken somewhat of a liking to the Squib.

Daphne, of course, for Tracey's own good tried her level best to keep her away from Evans. Not only was he the son of the muggleborn dressed in pants and muggle shirt, he was an outright embarrassment to their house.

And yet every time she tried to ignore him, he would somehow manage ingratiate himself either near her or near Tracey. She tried her best to ignore him but of course, the stubborn, impudent brat would not just take a hint, which at this point, was more like a yell. Every morning he would attempt to flatter her, with words of her cuteness or beauty or intelligence or the like.

She scoffed at the thought of being with someone like him. She would rather drown herself than shame her house, her parents and her family before doing something so eternally shameful. Like the Flints.

He was at best an obstacle, at worst a hurdle and nuisance to her plans. Not her parents' plans but hers. A discrete look to her left confirmed she was right. Well the boy, in all his stupidity, was busy pointing at the bloody feather with a bloody stick, her objective was actually getting on quite well with Charms. Yes, Draco Malfoy was the perfect heir, she had surmised quickly.

Not only was he a walking, talking encyclopaedia of pureblood customs and tradition, he had pride in their heritage. Alexander Potter, she supposed was a viable alternative. She had to hand it to her mother, she knew how to pick her cards right.

And then there was his stupid, squib brother! A menace, really. Getting in the way of the realisation of her plans. She had noticed, even if Tracey refused to do so, that Draco tended to stay away from her, and thus automatically close to that slag Pansy, when Evans was either near or reciting the annals of Daphne's beauty, either in public or the common room.

But Daphne was never one to take it lying down. She had jinxed him quite a bit. Yes, the occasional tripping hex and stinging hex she cast on him in plain sight when he was being particularly inane, but the better ones she had managed to cast while being hidden, or rather, out of sight.

She supposed, being the idiot that Evans was, he thought it was either Draco jinxing him or the Gryffindors, thought she had no doubt they were too. The last time she had taken her revenge on him quite satisfactorily, if she said so herself. For having the gall to talk to Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, about Daphne as 'darling Daffodil!'

How dare he! She had taken her revenge of course, by subtly leaking the rumour of his squib status, and his Myrridian index of thirty-five. And then, it had only taken a few loudmouth Gryffindors to discuss it in their common room, and suddenly the whole school knew.

Job well done; she had congratulated herself. Even more so, when in the aftermath and the resulting impromptu fight between him, Draco, Alexander and Weasley, the squib had broken his wand. She was sure he would be out of Hogwarts the next day. His parents surely were embarrassed at having not only a squib from their family attending Hogwarts representing them, but also in Slytherin.

She was sure that Evans would be history and she would have enacted her revenge to a suitable degree, with none the wiser, all the while showing her parents that she had been right all along about not only Evans, but also about focusing on Malfoy.

But then, to her immense surprise, the boy had managed to not only infuriate her with a Daffodil next to her bed, the very next morning, but he was annoyingly happy. And had cost a lot of Slytherins, including her who had made a bet discretely via Blaise, a lot of money when he had somehow turned up at school, a few hours later, with a second wand.

Though nobody had seen that wand until now, when his mother had asked for it to cast the Reverse Spell, they had assumed that he had one. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been allowed to return. What was even more shocking were the two spells shown on the wand's echo.

Of course, she didn't believe Weasley for a second when he ranted how Evans had jinxed him. The boy barely levitates a feather, let alone cast a successful jinx. No, it was more likely an older Slytherin or even his brothers – the twin menaces.

Therefore, the only explanation for the echoes of the two spells – mutare and lumos – was that someone had shown the spells to him using his new twig of a wand. That posed two questions. One, where in the hell he managed to get such a flimsy and odd-looking wand? And second, who could he have found to show him the spells?

For surely, it couldn't have been himself. And no older Slytherin would dare go near him or talk to him. And she knew for a fact that no one had taken him as a mentee. Like Grace Weitt had taken her. That left…. His mother! Of course.

The poor woman would have taken her pity on her failure of a son. Or more likely, she had done it to spare her family, and Alexander further embarrassment. And as Evans tried and failed, again to levitate the feather, even slightly, with his new wand, she felt pity for the woman.

Harry on the other hand was quite content to only practice the wand motion and the incantation, again and again until it became natural to him, without even pushing his magic slightly into the wand. He could feel the thunderbird's displeasure… or maybe it was the Nundu.

It was probably the former. The Nundu was very silent, as it hunted. As such, it was the more subtle of the creatures, and its traits matched Harry more than the bird. There was a huff of annoyance from the Gryffindor side, and he saw Weasel frowning, putting his head on his folded hands as his mother gave Granger ten points for the feather levitating well over there heads. BANG! Startled, Harry looked to see Finnegan covered in soot, his feather burnt to char.

Lily, was terribly nervous, not that it showed in general cheery self, when she had started this class. They had been doing the lumos charm for about two weeks now. Almost everyone had understood theory behind and everyone could light their wands to a suitable level. Well, everyone but Harry.

But that's what was worrying her. After his new wand's frankly terrifying display at the shop and learning about its cores, she was genuinely worried. Not just about Harry, and the safety of said wand and Harry's clear inability to control it, the way the boulder had been destroyed, but also about Alexander.

She knew it was selfish but she couldn't help. She had more than slightly incensed when he had fallen asleep. How rude! How insulting! Did he think she was that boring! She was the youngest Charm's Mistress is over half a century. And he had the gall to actually admit that he was having a pleasant dream.

For a second, she had seen the gleam in his eyes that he had before entering the frankly, stupidly expensive shop, Twilfitt and Tattings. Even after ten years of being married to a pureblood, from one of the old families, she could never get used to how pompous they all were. And their stupid traditions! Using that as an excuse to not advance or make society better!

And her son was quickly becoming one of them! It was all that whore Narcissa's doing, she was sure of it. Petunia would not have raised him to be wasteful! Her sister was a lot of things, but wasteful she was not. She hated how her son hated anything to do with muggles! He didn't even like his name for Merlin's sake.

It reminded her quite heavily of James' mother, Dorea Potter nee Black. The pureblood woman had been against James' marriage to her from the start. And though Charlus was more subdued about it, she could tell he didn't like it either.

All because she was a muggleborn! But she had proved herself over and over again. First, she had gotten the best NEWTs and OWLs in the school, even better than the purebloods. Then, she had become the youngest Charm's Mistress and had successfully battled said purebloods in the Blood War and then she had given birth to a son who defeated the darkest wizard in history.

And she had raised her children to like muggles and muggleborns. Oh, how she hated the word, muggle. But it was clear that Harry had gone wrong. And she would do everything in her power to make sure he didn't grow up to be the classic, pureblood hating muggles.

At least, it was a good thing, her and James, Sirius and Remus had agreed that Harry was not a pureblood. He would never be accepted quite well into Slytherin who only care about blood and power.

So, when she had started today's charms' class, she was worried how the new wand would propel Harry to the top of the class. But it seems, her anxiousness wasn't warranted.

He was still struggling, even with the new wand. Perhaps, they were all right, after all. Perhaps, Harry was a near squib after all. And the wand was merely that. A tool. But ultimately, useless, from what she could see, if the user can't use magic.

That, as much as she knew that it was selfish, managed to console her. Even though they hadn't managed to get Harry a phoenix feather wand, this one didn't seem to work for him either. Which means he wouldn't a threat to Alexander now, or in the future.

And her poor boy had such a heavy burden as it was. Even if he was, as yet, unaware of it. He didn't need having to compete with his brother as well.

Satisfied with his progress, Harry made his way out of the Charm's classroom, quite aware of the scrutinising gaze of one Blaise Zabini on his back as we walked in front of them. He was quite aware of leaving his back exposed to potential enemies, but if he knew one thing about Blaise, it was that he wasn't stupid enough to jinx Harry in plain view of the public, if he was even going to do it.

He probably should have moved the feather at least a little. Oh well. Hindsight in 20/20 they say. That was probably why he was suspicious.

'What?' Harry asked, annoyed, seeing Blaise beside him, with the same look he had the night of the midnight duel.

'Oh nothing,' he sing-songed. It was really weird seeing this normally aloof, obsessed with his looks, boy singing something in order to try to annoy him. 'Just wondering what you're scheming is all.'

Harry raised an eyebrow, 'What makes you think I'm scheming something, Zabini?'

'Oh please,' Blaise looked ahead and they were far away from the rest of the Slytherins to not be overheard. 'Do you think I'm like the rest of these morons.'

Harry rolled his eyes. Trust Blaise to be so cryptic. 'Well then, I'll ask a simpler question. What do you want?' He was no in no mood to try and play cop and thief when he already had too much on his mind. Like that weird lullaby dream and figure out who the mysterious woman he couldn't clearly see, was?

'Oh, I want nothing from you,' Blaise smirked at Harry who snorted.

'The day I believe that is the day I eat the sorting hat, Zabini,' Harry scoffed and made his way to the library, diverting from the rest of the Slytherins who were going to the common room.

It was almost an hour to dinner and Harry had no intention of spending that in the common room, likely being a victim of a jinx or two. He'd much rather spend the time catching up on his History of Magic essays.

Before he left though, Blaise said, 'You know. I look forward to the day you show yourself. And I'm not the only one.'

Harry whirled around to question, only to see Blaise smirk and disappear around the entrance hall towards the dungeons.

Crap! Now he's got him worried. Which is what his motive was in the first place. Damn Zabini. And damn that other person. He really should have known better than to presume that his act was going unnoticed.

But who the hell was watching him, other than Zabini? In hindsight, Zabini probably didn't mean anything sinister, or he wouldn't have told Harry his suspicions.

The question was, was he gathering information for someone else in the house? Or was it his mother? The latter thought sent a shudder of actual terror through him.

Samantha Zabini was known far and wide in the pureblood circles, and even in not some pureblood circles, as the Black Widow. A famously beautiful witch, who had been married seven times and all of her husbands died of suspiciously natural causes, leaving her mountains of gold.

She was of course, the suspect in their deaths but there was never any evidence. Not even once. Which made her, and by extension, Blaise extremely dangerous. Not to mention they were immensely rich.

Which brought Harry's attention back to his current problem of funds. Money didn't grow on trees after all, and his trust vault only had a limited amount in it. He needed a way to make up for all the money he had spent, perhaps unwisely.

But what to do?

Going into the lineage section of the library, Harry found whatever books he could on Magical Families of Europe and Eurasia. Previously, he had spent much of the time learning about English pureblood families and how things were run in wizarding Britain.

His last essay on the inheritance laws of the Wizengamot, assigned by Andromeda to him privately, had only gotten an EE. He needed to do better. That much was certain. It was times like these that he envied seemingly endless encyclopaedic brain of pureblood knowledge. Everything from family trees of other lines, to magical customs.

Seeing as tonight was Samhain, he had an essay due on the history of the festival, its origins and similarities with the muggle, Halloween. Curiously, Andromeda had given this essay to the class as a whole as well, but for him, it needed to include a detailed description of traditional wizarding rites mistaken by most as pureblood rites. That was where the books of wizarding customs Narcissa got him would come in handy.

Almost an hour later, Harry had trudged back to common room, his hands full of Genealogy books and those on Ancient Families, most of whom were gone. He had been reading up on the Gamps, a completely pureblood Ancient Family that had been present since the time of the founders when he had been distracted by a passing mention of LeFay.

From there, he had delved into accounts of Ancient Families of the Medieval period, or of those leading up to fifteenth century but there was no account of any English family named LeFay. Morgana LeFay was one of them, everyone knew but she had been born as the daughter of Arthur Pendragon, the muggle king of Camelot.

So, what connection did Tessa have to that LeFays? He was sure there must be some connection otherwise why would the purebloods recognise the name and why would Voldemort care enough to wipe them out. It was easy to see why Dumbledore hired her.

Even if she wasn't an expert Astronomer, she was a staunch pureblood who was heavily against Voldemort. That would have been incentive enough. Yet, he was sure there must be another reason.

He looked around the common room. Good, it wasn't that crowded near the studying table. Harry went and sat on the other end of it, but not before sending a 'Looking beautiful there, Daffodil!' towards Daphne prompting her to turn up her nose at him.

Chuckling, Harry took out the 'History and Lineages of Wizarding Ancient Greece' and started reading, making notes of whatever he thought was worthy of remembering or noting.

Ancient Greece, was one of the two oldest magical civilizations in the world. The only other older than Greece was Egypt, which too was quite fascinating to Harry but he hadn't gotten to it yet.

He knew he was biting off much more than he could chew but surely Andromeda would understand if did Greece first then Europe later. Besides, he had a hunch that Tessa was Greek. First, the name was quite 'ancient timey' as she put it, and did not sound European. It was definitely not English. Also, she looked Mediterranean and she certainly sounded like them, judging purely from the few Greek accents he had heard on TV.

Just as Harry was reading up on the fascinating seer like abilities of the Angelos family of Ancient Greece, near the time of Herpo the Foul, he was too lost in history, to notice the chick had waddled onto the parchment.

'Ouch!' Harry winced, drawing his finger away and looking surprised at the raven chick that had bit him, looking up at him as if complaining about something.

Harry didn't know how he knew but he did, 'Fine, you're hungry. Here,' Harry drew out a little tiffin box from his bag, one compartment of which was reserved for the raven chick. 'Careful… Slowly,' just as he opened the box, the chick hurried to get its beak into it, even though its short neck wouldn't allow it.

'Here,' Harry put some spare parchment down and his notes aside, picking up the glaring chick and put it on the parchment, before tipping the tiffin and spilling some bread crumbs dipped in milk.

The chick chirped happily, as Harry fed it bit by bit. Merlin was it growing fast. It wasn't two weeks ago when the thing was tiny, as small as his thumb, perhaps even smaller. Now, it was almost the size of half of his palm. That is amazing growth in two weeks, he commended it mentally. Even though all it had in its diet was dried bread and sometimes soaked in milk or water.

Harry had once tried to give it dried fruit but the chick had turned up its face at it. Ungrateful brat, Petunia would have said to him and proceeded to whack him on the head with a hot frying pan, just to be on the frying pan.

Thinking back, it was an absolute miracle he had survived as sane as he was, however limited his sanity seemed to him sometime. How Harry wished he would could have grown as fast as the chick seeing as the chick has essentially the same diet Harry had for ten years. Bread and water for water and sometimes a thin slice of meat for dinner.

And look how well that turned out. He was still the shortest and scrawniest kid in the entire school, he thought with disgust. But of course, that didn't stop the students from picking on him. No, indeed. That only made it worse. But he had vowed to himself, he would not give them the satisfaction to think that they have broken him.

If he had one Slytherin trait, he thought, it was determination. Or perhaps some would call it stubbornness, as he was sure the Slytherins were calling his today's performance nothing but pure stubbornness.

'Well, let them think what they want to, isn't that right,' he muttered absent-mindedly as he stroked the back of the chick. The tiny, vertical feature just below where its head finished on the back was curious. He had seen a couple of bird chick's before in his life, but nothing with this kind of a vertical feather.

* * *

Dumbledore was perplexed. And that was someone the wizened old wizard only had been a few times in his life. Other than Grindelwald, locked up in Nurmengard, telling him that being a seer – the ability that started that whole mess, partially – he had already known about his defeat at his hands.

The second was Voldemort, having already won the Blood War by all rights and well on his way to taking over Wizarding Britain, being destroyed and defeated by one-year old child, leaving nothing in the ruins of Potter Cottage at Godric's Hollow except his smoking black robes. Not even his wand was present.

And because of the heavy use of dark magic, and the air so saturated with it, he couldn't begin to trace what had happened but he had made a few conclusions. Both Alexander and Hadrian had varying levels of dark magic residue on them. Alexander, of course, being who he was, was awake and also had a bleeding 'V' cut forehead, and the residue left the Killing Curse concentrated on him.

Hadrian on the other hand was unconscious and had a lesser concentration of the Killing Curse residue, with a lightning mark on the forehead. Both children were marked. But that was not supposed to happen. It had rendered him completely perplexed until they took the boys to St. Mungo's.

And this was clearly one of these times. For the last week or so, he had been away from Britain on ICW business, and had given the reigns of the school over to his deputy, the ever loyal, staunch Gryffindor Minerva.

He had only returned earlier today, having settled the disputes between wizards and Veelas in France – for now – and had summoned James, Lily and Minerva in his office. The revelation had completely blindsided him and for once, he didn't know what to think. Should he consult the centaurs? It was almost a fact that the centaurs knew divination better than any human could.

'Albus? What has happened?' Minerva asked, worried. 'You look….'

Of course, he couldn't have his subordinates thinking he was worried. Albus replied, 'No worries Minerva. Some minor issue with the ICW, I assure you. I've merely had a trying day,' with the twinkle in his eyes.

Minerva nodded as she accepted that excuse.

But of course, Lily Potter, the ever tenacious muggleborn, wouldn't let it go. 'Albus this is about Harry isn't it?'

And to think he had wondered where the young Slytherin got his tenaciousness from.

'I was right, he's a threat to Alexander, isn't he?' James growled. 'I should have known!'

'James!' Lily said, exasperated, as she was when he and Sirius did something childish, usually with Alexander in the vicinity.

'Calm down, my boy,' Dumbledore said, 'Here have a lemon drop.'

James grumbled but took one nonetheless and plopped into one of the many chairs in the office.

'I wouldn't go so far as to say a threat. Merely a concern,' Albus started, getting up and walking to his pensieve. A pensieve was an enchanted bowl like object, in which memories, extracted from one's mind could be stored or viewed at one's leisure. This one, was one of his most prized possessions and had been gifted to him by his mentor.

Putting the tip of his wand to his temple, he withdrew the silvery thread of the memory and lightly pushed it down into the depths of the liquid-gas substance filling the magical object already. He would certainly review the memory later, for it was obvious there was connection to it.

How Hadrian tied into all this, he had yet to figure out. But it was quickly becoming clear that they couldn't just write him off, as they had done previously. Fate, if one believed in it, had something planned for the young boy.

'Concern for what, Albus?' Minerva asked him, looking from him to the Potters.

'Tell me, my dear, have you seen young Hadrian's new wand?' Albus got straight to the point, waiting to see if they knew anything about it.

Minerva shook her head, confused. And while James adopted a glowering look, Lily most curiously was relaxed.

'Hmm,' Albus nodded. They didn't know. He wondered how they would take it. Not well, he would guess. 'From what you tell me, young Hadrian has a wand startlingly similar to one I have already seen before. And from the same wandmaker.'

They're heads snapped up to look at him. Oh, how he adored childish curiosity. Yes, indeed it was a marvellous thing. Albus wondered if he should merely tell them or show them. Hmm.

'Well, don't leave us hanging,' James insisted, now leaning back on his chair so front two legs were lifted from the floor.

Dumbledore chuckled, 'Very well, very well. You must forgive this old man his need for encouraging curiosity in those as young as yourselves. It is one of the benefits of being as old as I am. Well, on to the point. As I was saying, I have only seen this wand once before.

Young Hadrian's wand concerns me on two accounts. One, it's made of Yew, which is incredibly rare if I do say so myself. Garrick would no doubt agree with me that Yew holds a particularly fearsome and dark reputation, specifically in the spheres of duelling and curses.

And other, being the core. Thunderbird feather is relatively harmless, strong for transfiguration, yes, but akin to phoenix feather, mostly, which is suited to a wide range of magics. The one that concerns me, is the Nundu heartstring. As you know, its an XXXX dark creature. One of the most dangerous in the world. Wands with cores from such creatures are very much attuned and geared towards dark magic, as you can imagine with something like lethifold tooth or dementor's essence.

That and Mykew Gregorovitch only made two wands from the same Nundu. One belonging to Hadrian, the other had gone to…. Gellert Grindelwald.'

There was a sharp intake of breath from the others, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Thud! James chair fell back to the ground but the man hardly noticed. He was too busy doing a fairly good impression of a gaping goldfish.

* * *

Harry hadn't noticed but a half hour had passed and several students were getting up. What was more interesting was their reactions to him today. Unlike most days where he be sneered at by the Slytherins, or worse jinxed, today couldn't have been more different.

If only due to the fact that instead of antagonistic towards him in the common room, they were acting indifferent to him. And that, to him was a huge change. And he couldn't help but wonder why that was? It couldn't be because, in his stubbornness, he refused to stay away from the common room even if they jinxed him and kept coming back and had claimed a seat at the study table for himself.

As he sat there, focused on the chick and its modest rations, he heard someone call him, 'Hadrian Potter!'

Harry was so surprised to actually being addressed without loathing or venom in the voice of the person that he took a few seconds to actually get his head right. And after charms where he had… passed out… it was entirely logical.

Hardly anyone, called him by his name. He looked up to see the beautiful curly, brunette sixth year Slytherin he recognised. She had just finished talking to Daphne, it seems, when she turned and addressed him.

Great! So, Daffodil must have told her about his nap in Charms today and resulting loss of points. Hypocrites! Draco loses more points from Minerva for picking on Longbottom than anyone and this was the first time that Harry had ever lost points. Can't they give him a break.

He almost scoffed at himself. What a stupid question.

'Ms. Grace Weitt,' he replied, giving her a small smile and feeding the chick with his left hand, while still smiling at her.

She looked momentarily surprised at him knowing who she was, but like any proper Slytherin she concealed it fairly quickly and she walked over.

Okay, this was getting weird, Harry thought. To the school in general, Grace Weitt was just another sixth-year, but in Slytherin, she was queen. Head of the Triumvirate, even though Cassius Warrington was a seventh year.

Of course, his informant had given him more knowledge about her but he wouldn't use it now. That would be a waste.

But something was going on here. His wand was getting antsy for some reason. Harry was well aware that Grace calling his name had attracted the attention of more than a few older Slytherins.

Giving one cursory glance to the odd-looking chick their resident squib had taken to feeding, and taken as a pet, she guessed, she turned her attention to the boy sitting in front of her. Grace, from a long line of wealthy purebloods, had put effort into her reputation as one of the most feared students in Slytherin.

And she could decidedly say, that no one, had given her more trouble than this boy. And she hadn't even talked to him even once. No, it was because he went against everything the house stood for. The Triumvirate had barely been able to keep the entire house from asking to ousting him.

Not because she cared for the boy, but because it would make Slytherin look like cowards, and more importantly, lend credence to the frankly, sometimes awful things others say about her house.

After her head of house had, in not so many words, voiced his displeasure of Potter being in their house, they had decided that they would make him suffer. Of course, punishment was necessary. Particularly after how Professor had told her, in confidence, how Potter had schemed to get his brother in their house. And not only was he the cause of insult to Slytherin on his very first night, but he had failed in his scheme – disastrously so.

Potter hadn't thought it through. Very unlike a Slytherin. She supposed he thought he could impress them with such a scheme but he was greatly mistaken. And what else could they expect from a boy having grown up as a muggle.

After Alexander, who at least had grown up as a wizard – albeit a blood-traitor, so it wasn't saying much – got expectedly resorted into Gryffindor, the resulting media backlash in the Prophet had painted Slytherin in a very bad light indeed.

Everything from Slytherin house trying to make Alexander Potter the next Dark Lord and using his brother to do so; to being influenced by the Dark Lord himself so they could get the boy-who-lived in their house and assassinate him.

And this bloody boy had been the cause of it all. And then, to top off the insult to their house, he had turned out to be a squib. A squib! How he managed to get a wand to choose him, much less get sorted at all, was a mystery to her.

But that was not all. The Triumvirate had more or less ordered the house to stay away from him; not welcome him at meals; talk to him during lessons as much as they could without seeming antagonistic towards him publicly. Granted, it had been hard but they pulled it off. It had been her idea of course.

And then, somehow, most unexpectedly, he not only knew Narcissa Bloody Malfoy, the elite socialite who held within the palms of her hands the reputations of many young ladies but addressed her as Aunt Cissa?! How in the world had that happened? The only explanation was that she wasn't aware of his squib status.

Grace wasn't accustomed to being thrown off but that was what happened that day. And when his father, Auror Potter had, quite correctly said that Slytherin house didn't accept him, pointing out all the examples of it, the squib had not only turned it against him, but her as well.

She had been quite proud of her young charge, Daphne Greengrass, after her scheme of leaking his Myrridian index had worked and Potter had become, essentially the pariah of the school.

Alas, all their efforts and her plans to annoy Potter so much that he would want to quit Slytherin before first term was over and go to his insufferable brother, had turned to ash the moment he said that Slytherin gives him space because he requested it.

What an arrogant arse! And for a squib that was saying something. That, along with his move to get the blood traitor, Slytherin alum, Black woman appointed at Hogwarts had almost resulted in Grace almost being ousted from the Triumvirate. Somehow, all the blame for failure to get the Squib Potter out of their house, had rested on her!

And now, the insufferably arrogant, stubborn squib sat there, smiling up at her as if she was a simpleton, feeding that bloody pigeon, as if he actually belonged in their house!

Regardless, she had been ordered to bury the hatchet by orders of Professor Snape and she would do it. Of course, it was in his power to oust him from the house but he would never do that without a proper reason. That was terribly unsubtle.

She had seen the disappointment in his words when he had told her to settle this, today. Slytherin couldn't afford anymore division. Already Gryffindor, because of Alexander, getting a Nimbus 2000 and a place as Seeker, was gaining too much notoriety.

They were gathering attention, good. This way she wouldn't have to make an announcement of Snape's orders. The Slytherins would hear the underlying message loud and clear.

'I'm sorry for your situation, Potter. The house will welcome you to the table, today.'

There. She had said it. There were whispers going around at her comment but that was good. Soon, the whole house would know.

Harry eyes widened, despite him controlling his emotions. He was momentarily dumbfounded. Never, in a hundred years, had he thought this would happen. The Leader of the Triumvirate coming up to him, herself!

He was almost about to accept when his mind clocked onto the scheme. This was a trap! She was trapping him! Bloody hag!

Welcome him to the table, today! He almost missed the emphasis on that word. She could just as well be lying. After everything they had done to him, that wasn't unexpected.

Next thing he knew, he would walk in, in full view of the Great Hall during the Halloween feast, in front of Andromeda who was taking the time to teach him to be a Slytherin and Tessa, who he desperately wanted to impress, and be denied a seat.

Oh, the embarrassment that would cause him! And the disappointment it would cause Andromeda and Tessa.

Or, she could be serious and they really wanted to accept him.

Quickly, he brainstormed what to do.

One: She was serious. Graciously accept and request to escort her to the feast.

Two: She was scheming. Refuse out right and call her out on it. Rather Gryffindorish.

Three: Accept but not go. That was the safest option but it would make him look like a coward.

Four: Accept but subtly call her out on it.

Harry rose from his seat and smiled, 'Thank you. I would be honoured to accept,' he replied politely and shook her hand, 'Something that was my right all along. But lets bygones be bygones.'

Her eyes narrowed; her hand squeezed the squib's hand as she smiled in return. She heard a sharp intake of breath from Daphne and a murmur going around the assembled Slytherins. How dare he! How…dare… he!

She smiled and turned.

Inside, she fumed! All that repressed anger for the last two months; that anger at not being to oust a single bloody squib from their house, being the leader of triumvirate; the anger from seeing Snape's disappointment at her came to a boiling rage! There was only so much insult she would take without blowing up. If Snape wanted a reason, she would damn well give him one.

Harry had known it was a risk, but he hadn't thrown a tantrum however much he was pissed at his house for treating him like a pariah. Not matter how much he hated not being able to sit on the table like everyone else, he didn't fall so low as to moan about it now. He had remembered Tessa saying how he wasted too much time on house politics to not pay attention to his studies. He would not make the same mistake now.

Yet at the same time, he would not allow them to think they could just use him, and them trample him whenever they liked. He had felt her anger when she had squeezed his hand, but then to rescind the offer would be going back on her word.

She turned, and Harry was about to sit down. His wand vibrated in his holster! Danger! It screamed! There was an audible shriek of an eagle. A Crack! And the wand was in his hand without him even calling it!

Danger! It told him! He had no idea what the hell was going on but knew better than to ignore his wand.

Harry dived to the right just as a furious looking Grace turned, her own brown wand in her hand. There was a veritable blast of fire from her wand. Aimed right where he was only a second ago!

'Shit!' Harry cursed, throwing himself to the side on the table, knocking over books and chairs. People scrambled to get away from the duo. The fire didn't let up, burning his papers and notes, as she turned it on him.

'_Harrryyyy!'_ a woman's voice whispered in his head.

A shriek of an eagle emitted from his own yew wand, as it dragged his arm to face the oncoming fire. Power surged inside him and Harry knew, in that moment, what he had to do. He let it go with a yell. Lightning crackled from his fingertips, into his wand and from his wand.

A crack of thunder and in instant, a lightning bolt was shot towards the danger posed to him.

Grace's eyes widened, unable to comprehend what was happening. One moment she had cast an incendio and then other, lightning was shooting towards her faster than she could shield.

In that decisive moment, with a bang, lightning surged through the fire blast, halving it and straight into her wand tip from where the fire emerged. She felt pain she never knew before. Her body screamed in agony as lightning

'AAGHHHHH!' Harry heard a scream. For a moment he thought it was him screaming and that she had managed to burn him.

Before Harry knew what happened, the bolt shot forward, crashing into her, throwing her backwards into the outer common room, her robes smoking and as she lay on the floor; her limbs spasming and fingers twitching. Her wand, now a collection of burnt splinters of wood and a charred grey claw.

Then, with growing horror he realised what spell she had used, remembering the fire burning his papers as he had dodged. Right where…. Oh no. The chick!

He whipped his head around, only to see the small, innocent body of the chick, now a small burning ball. There were shouts all around him as Slytherins scrambled to get their wands out, pointing it at him. Vaguely, he registered someone screaming and running out the common room. But cared not.

Eyes wide, his nostrils flared as anger swirled inside him; rage nothing like he had ever known, filled his chest and screamed to be let out, to wreak havoc. He saw the angry faces of the older Slytherins, some bending to check on Grace, some pointing wands to him.

His vision blurred for a moment as red stunners were shot straight at him. He saw red, just a screech of a bird was heard behind him…. Maybe his wand.

And then the red stunners were consumed by a wall of black fire that somehow appeared in front of him. With a scream, he let all of his anger, shooting the surging power. Several older Slytherins were blasted back, slamming into walls, with yells of surprise.

A blast of red light, and he slipped into darkness, his wand slipping out of his hand.

* * *

The moment Potter had been sorted into his house; he knew that the years of peace he had known since the dark lord's fall, would cease.

Yes, he had been right on the money when he had said on the start of term that his personal hell was starting. And Merlin was he right. Not only was Alexander Potter just like his arrogant arse father, he and his sidekick Weasel went about pranking Slytherins and Ravenclaws right and left, and finding it extremely hilarious.

Of course, Severus was never one to take it lying down and every time they did anything remotely like his fiendish father and godfather, he was right there to give them detentions and take away a plethora of points.

In hindsight, he should have never agreed to Lily's request to make it clear to his Slytherins that no one should take the younger Potter as a mentee. Not that it would have mattered anyway, after his near squib status was made public.

Yes, he had been more than a little angry and offended that not only had this boy been sorted into his house, he had also schemed to get his brother into Slytherin – which, unsurprisingly, failed disastrously.

He knew that many Slytherins were angered by Potter's sorting and considered it an insult to themselves and what their house stood for. At first, Severus was torn. Torn between agreeing with them and putting them in their place.

It had been the same when he had been sorted. Slytherins had taken a long time to accept him, being a half-blood and all. Being taken under the wing of Lucius had helped greatly, but it was a long time before that happened.

Even though the headmaster hadn't told him, he had known, ever since the headmaster had offered to place Hadrian in Gryffindor regardless of the sorting, that they would want the boy to leave Slytherin, no doubt thinking that as an insult to House Potter and the Light.

And normally, he would eat the sorting hat before allowing himself to be manipulated by that blasted James Potter but, in this case, their wishes coincided with his peace of mind. And so, he had ordered the Slytherins and the triumvirate, in not so unclear terms that they are not to accept Potter in Slytherin… Yet.

And, if Potter, not being able to handle the heat by the Slytherins were to leave and ask to be sorted in Gryffindor, then all the better for everyone concerned. But the blasted brat had managed to impress him.

And simultaneously, made him disappointed in his house at large. They were supposed to be Slytherins and observant, for Merlin's sake! Not thick-headed like a dumb Gryffindor thug and yet they were blind.

The boy was more subtle than most Slytherins he saw. But he wasn't as subtle as to go under the radar from him! The King of Slytherin. During their first flying lesson, like it was his habit, he had stood in the corner under a disillusionment to see the new potential quidditch players Slytherin would have, to trounce Gryffindor of course.

And he had seen Potter try multiple times and fail to cast the doubling charm but still he persisted, all the while on the broom out flying his brother. And at last, he had succeeded. The tactic was a hasty one, and it could have been improved. Doubling charm and then a finite, just in time to land on the ground himself and throw the broom away, just before Hooch came.

Granted, the scheme could have been better, but for a first year, that was good. And he was quite glad to take points off of Potter's – Alexander's stupidity. And later, when he had caught Zabini and Potter sneaking back into the common room, he had given detention, true, but only to learn what really happened.

A meeting with Zabini later, and he knew Potter's scheme to get his brother into trouble. Rather Gryffindorish tactic, he admitted, but he employed it with Slytherin cunning.

And so, deeming two months of hazing to be enough, and given that Weitt had indeed failed in her plot to get Potter out of Slytherin, he had ordered her to bury the hatchet. Which she should be doing just about now.

Potter, he grudgingly admitted, was a Slytherin. That was true and Severus was never one to deny talent where he saw it. But too bad the boy was a near squib. He would never amount to anything much, like the dunderhead Longbottom, even if can do an average doubling charm after weeks of practice.

He was distracted from his musing by a disturbance he felt in the wards. RING! RING!

Something was wrong in the common room. An alarm rang in his office, just in time for the frantic knocking on the door.

Severus Snape swore, as a third-year girl rushed in, yelling something about Potter attacking Weitt. What in the name of Merlin! He had ordered her to make peace. How did they end up fighting!

At once, he got his wand and hurried to the common room, rushing through the open passageway just in time to hear a yell of anger, and a flurry of stunners. But all that was drowned out by a screech of a bird; a blast of black fire and students smashing into the walls.

'Enough! Cease hostility!' he yelled just as Lucan Donovan shot a stunner and Potter fell to the ground, his odd twig of a wand, falling out of his hand, as students scrambled to get out of the way.

But the insufferable boy wasn't his priority. No, it was the girl on the ground. Using all of his occlumency and keeping his emotions in check, even though his anger wanted to burst forth, he rushed to the fallen girl.

Whipping his wand out, he muttered incantations, examining her injuries. Her top robes, torn, were obviously smoking. A blackened hole burnt into her shirt, making the burn obvious on her exposed chest and cleavage.

He was no Madam Pomfrey but years of putting up with the bullying of James Potter and Sirius Black and later, service to the Dark Lord and had made it a necessity to learn diagnosis charms and healing spells.

All he could diagnose was first degree burns on her skin, centred around her exposed chest; the fingertips of her right hand were blackened; muscle spasms resulting from electrocution and the obvious pain she had passed out from. But thank Merlin, he detected no dark magic.

'Tippy!' he yelled summoning the house elf that served him breakfast. 'Go to my lab, get me an energy-renewal potion, anti-electrocution potion, a heart-beat stabiliser and a burn salve.'

Tippy didn't stay long enough to reply, knowing an emergency when she saw one and instantly brought the potions he had asked for and put it next to him.

Snape waved his wand, stabilising the erratic heartbeat that had resulted from the lightning shock before he had another girl prop her up and open her mouth as he tipped the potions inside.

Once she had ingested all three of them, he waved his wand again, casting the same spells and incantations and was glad to see that she was recovering. He put up a barrier on her fallen wand, not wanting it to be disturbed until he took a look at it.

Another wave, and her chest was covered by a conjured cloth and he levitated her into the sixth-year dormitory. 'Rosier, come!' he said, vanishing down the spiral stairs, a wave of his wand cancelling the wards which normally turned the stairs into a slide and raised an alarm, should a boy attempt to get into the girl's dormitories.

Vinda was already hurrying forwards before he had ordered her, not bothering to look behind, knowing that Lucan would take care of it in here. 'No one moves a muscle!' she heard his growl, and smirked. Yes, she was right.

Putting her carefully on her bed, Professor Snape handed her the bottle of thick, orange salve. 'Rub it on her burns, all of them. I've put her to sleep so she shouldn't wake anytime soon.'

That was all he said, and that was all she needed anyway, before he rushed back up to the common room.

Once he was sure that the girl was in no danger, beyond the non-fatal injuries, he was cursing mentally. Cursing Potter, yes. And his own accursed luck as well.

As he walked up the stairs, a quick a tempus charm showed him only ten minutes remained to the start of the feast.

He could see that, most of the house was now present in the common room, standing on the edges, away from the centre, no doubt called by one of the prefects, Lucan perhaps. He made a mental note to award him points for handling the situation well.

Weitt's wand was now beyond repair, even with Dumbledore's or Ollivander's ability. As he gathered the charred and broken splinters, being the Potion's Master that he was, he recognised the core as Griffin claw. Interesting.

But not nearly as interesting as the sight before him. There, on the ground, as he had left only a minute ago, was Potter, his wand lying near his hand. But that was not what everyone was staring at.

No. They were staring at the regal bird, the size of a swan, as black as midnight, with long, dark purple feathers, and piercing black eyes, standing guard on Potter's collapsed form.

The bird sang, its song lamenting his master and no doubt trying to bring some ease to him, even if he was unconscious.

Unbelievable. Utterly disbelief ran through him at the sight of the bird before him as he realised what the source of the black fire had been, and likely what was responsible for throwing the attackers into the walls.

It wasn't Potter as he had presumed upon initial assessment. How could he be? The boy was a near squib. He couldn't generate nearly enough power to do what had happened.

No, it was the black phoenix before him. A Dark Phoenix – he corrected himself. A magical creature far rarer than the red and gold ones that normally live in isolation. Fawkes was one of a kind, as he had chosen to bond with Albus.

And now, this. He had no idea what to make of it. It glared at him as he neared the unconscious Potter, screeching and flapping its wings, no doubt ready to attack him. 'I need to check on him,' he told the bird, knowing that like Fawkes, it could understand him.

Where the bird come from? He couldn't say.

It scrutinised him for a moment, before allowing him through. Snape bent down and waved his wand on Potter, realising that he was just stunned and an enervate would wake him. But not yet. He needed to know what happened first.

Absent-mindedly, Snape reached for Potter's wand on the floor, the twisted, white bark like thing, only to snatch his hand back, recoiling when it sizzled upon his touch. What the hell? The bird looked at him as if saying 'what else did you expect.'

'What happened?' he whispered softly but no one could mistake the seriousness of his tone. Quickly, he was brought up to speed upon the events.

Sheer disbelief. How could she be this stupid. Attacking him right in front of everyone. But not only that, nearly setting fire to the library's books. Madam Pince would have her head, and worse, his head, if anything had happened to them.

But that was not all his disbelief was on. The ugly, little, naked chick that Potter had taken to carrying along in his robe pocket and feeding with his hand, much to the jeers and taunts of the house and the school, had turned out to be this phoenix before him, after Grace had set it on fire. He doubted she even knew what it was and her intention was to kill the creature, as punishment for Potter.

He shook his head, as he ordered Lucan to take levitate Potter into his dorm and place him on the bed, while he levitated his wand, not wanting to touch it again.

'Not a word of this to anyone,' he made sure his Slytherins knew that they were not to breathe a word of this to anyone outside of the house. Or they would suffer the consequences. 'Off to the feast, all of you,' he ordered before going to Potter's bed and placing the wand next to him, stunning him again for good measure.

'Everything alright Severus?' the headmaster asked, just as his Potion's Master came from the door behind the staff table.

'It is, headmaster,' he replied, not wanting to discuss anything further. His Slytherins had fortunately managed to make it to the Great Hall before the feast had started and no one was any wiser as to any trouble brewing in the snake pit.

The wizened defeater of Grindelwald probably figured that Severus was late due to checking up on the protections on the third-floor corridor and Severus saw no reason to enlighten him.

'Good,' the old man replied and returned to his conversation with Filius. A look around the table showed him that while Lily was there, her insidious husband was not. Something he was entirely glad for.

He had known there was a meeting going on between the Potters and the headmaster and Minerva, as Severus had been summoned as well. But he had begged his leave, claiming that a complicated potion was brewing and he could not leave it.

That was half the truth. He had been growing Skele-grow as he had no doubt Poppy would need it, since Quidditch season was starting and Skele-grow was one of the potions that required constant attention.

But nothing a Potion's Master of his calibre couldn't handle. He pushed all those thoughts out of his mind, focusing on his dinner, vaguely noting that Quirrell wasn't present either. Hopefully, Andromeda wouldn't scrutinise her old house table too much. If there was one person in the castle, other than the headmaster, who could spot something wrong with the snakes, it was her.

After all, like her insane older sister, she had also been the Leader of the Triumvirate during her time as a Slytherin.

Mercifully and thankfully, nothing much happened during dinner, until about halfway through it.

The doors to the Great Hall were flung open and in came running, Quirrell, looking as white as a sheet, 'TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON,' he frantically pointed towards the Entrance Hall, 'Thought you ought to know,' the idiot whispered and then collapsed… forward.

This is what gets passed off as a teacher when he was more than qualified for the job! He sighed, putting down the fork as panic ensued, children rose and screamed in terror, like Alexander; Weasley threw down his chicken legs in fright; some children ran for the doors… towards the said troll.

He was greatly disappointed to see that some of his Slytherins were among them. Lucius' brat screaming as if the troll was straight for him.

Idiots! Morons!

But he supposed he should make of this time and generously provided distraction. Donovan and Rosier would follow the emergency protocols he had drilled into them and take the Slytherins into the library, not the dungeons where the headmaster had told them to go.

With that, he fled through the door behind the staff table as Prefects led their houses to their dormitories.

* * *

Alexander loved Hogwarts! Absolutely loved it. Perhaps not as much as he loved food, or quidditch, but it was a close second.

The Halloween feast everything his parents, Sirius and Remus told him about and more. The Great Hall had been darkened, the only glow coming from Hagrid's enormous pumpkins carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, floating above them.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling, while a thousand more swooped over the tables and their heads, making the candles in the floating pumpkins flutter. Music from charmed antique vinyls played as students chatted happily.

Suddenly, the feast appeared on golden plates as it had on the start-of-term banquet. Alex and Ron enthusiastically dug in to the various delicious foods on offer. This feast was even better than the one they had on Sept 1st. The desserts in particular looked quite scrumptious.

On a cursory look as Alex tore a chicken leg off a roast chicken, he saw candy filled pumpkins, apples black cauldrons, carrot cake, chocolate gateau, orange streamers, juices of several different kinds and goblet of coloured candy.

It was all a child dreamt of, hearing about the legendary Hogwarts Halloween feast and more. As the table around him dissolved into excited chatter about the upcoming quidditch season and the first game of the season: Gryffindor vs Slytherin, understandably all eyes were on him.

Wood, sitting nearby was adamant that they were not training nearly enough, despite training three times a week, three to four hours a day and that they would need more to beat Slytherin.

'Oh, come off, they haven't even got a decent Seeker,' said Lee Jordan who was to be the commentator for the match.

'Yes, but they maybe hiding him!' Oliver grumbled, taking a scanning look over at the Slytherin table.

'Whoever it is…'

'I'm sure we can…'

'Beat him. We've got Potter…'

'After all,'

The Weasley twins said in their weird twin speech. Alexander grinned, 'Thanks guys! Dad's trained me a lot. I'll be sure to whip his arse, whoever he is.'

He would deny it if asked, but ever since Alexander had been told about the existence of his brother, he had wanted to play quidditch with him. But then, he found out that he was a squib and that hope was squashed. And now, he was a slimy snake! And a squib!

Sometimes, Alexander wished he had another brother. Rose was good and all, but she had no interest in quidditch and was perpetually afraid of flying. He shook his head. Plenty of time for that later. He refused to ruin his feast by thinking about these depressing things.

'Hey, where's Granger?' he noticed that where she usually sat, two spaces away from him and beside Neville, she wasn't there. Ron shrugged, not knowing.

Neville, his god-brother, turned towards him and said, 'Parvati Patil said that she wouldn't come out of the girl's bathroom. She said that she'd been in there… all afternoon… crying.'

He was tempted to ask more, since it was partly their fault that she was upset. Ron wasn't very nice to her in Charms and he supposed, he might have had something to do with it too, he admitted.

But then doors opened, and their Defence Professor came in, 'TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON'

Oh crap!

Chaos ensued. Students threw down their forks, Ron his chicken legs, Neville his fries and Alex his candy, they screamed and scrambled for the door.

'SILENCE!'

Mid run everyone stopped as the headmaster had stood up and yelled in his magically enhanced voice.

When it was clear that he had their attention, his voice returned to normal, 'Everyone would please… not panic… Now…Prefects will lead their house back to their dormitories… Teachers will follow me, to the dungeons.'

* * *

Harry had woken up nearly twenty minutes ago, his head aching and his back tensed. He correctly guessed that he had been stunned. That was a serious blow to his ego. Picking up his wand from the bed side table, he had noted the sudden difference in the feel but had no time to think about it.

The common room was understandably empty. There was not a single person there. And Harry felt peace. Sitting on the table, where he had been only an hour ago, he saw the scorch marks on the deep brown wood.

Forcing himself to remember, he winced when the thoughts came to him. The poor, poor bird. What had it ever done to the despicable girl that she set it on fire? It was innocent. If she wanted, she could have taken it out on Harry, but why kill the bird?

Harry shook his head. Slytherins were like a completely different species. Girls, even more so. And then he had summoned Sookie and had asked her to get him some dinner. Harry was enjoying the feast alone, when he heard the sounds coming from the dungeons.

THUD! THUD!

Then CRASH!

Then a SMASH!

THUD!

THUD!

The floor vibrated and the walls shook as if there an earthquake in the dungeons. What in the world was going on? But that wasn't it. His wand was excited. It was getting antsy. It wanted action and he realised with growing horror, it wanted blood!

He supposed be should see what the hell was making such a racket. Harry, carefully opened the passageway and peeked his head out, only enough to see what it was and enough to quickly dart back in the common room at the first sign of danger.

But he only saw a large wooden club, like a tree trunk disappearing around the corner. What the hell could wield something like that? His wand, even more excited now, probably knew what it was.

Carefully, and slowly, trying his level best to keep his footsteps as light as possible, Harry went after the thing. For something so large, it was quite fast, he mused.

Harry had no trouble tracking it as paintings yelled and some fled their portraits, as the nearly twelve-foot mountain troll rammed its large spiky club into walls and portraits.

'Curious, very curious,' Harry trailed after the lumbering beast, carefully to stay several feet, at least a corridor's length away from it. If not for the danger, then the smell at least. It frankly smelled horrendous. A mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet that no one wants to clean or has been cleaned in ages.

What was more interesting however was that the troll, who were said to be immensely stupid – there was even an OWL grade called Troll – and barely capable of independent thought. But this one clearly was being directed.

It wasn't lumbering its way through the castle. That much was clear. But why was it going to the first floor. And how come it was avoiding the staircases, even though that was the fastest route from where they were and if it had turned right, it would have come up to the moving staircases.

But it avoided that. Curiouser and curiouser. Harry continued to trail after it. It was heading straight towards the first-floor girl's bathroom…. Okay. Maybe it wasn't being directed then. Maybe it just wanted water.

He heard the sound of footsteps running towards where he was standing. Harry quickly hid behind a conveniently placed tall, suit of armour.

What were they doing here? He wasn't one to talk. He was basically doing the same thing as these two dunderheads, Alexander and Weasel.

He heard Weasel gulp, 'I think the trolls left the dungeon!' Harry rolled his eyes. Alexander helpfully added by stating another obvious fact, 'It's going to the girl's bathroom.'

Seriously? How stupid could they be? They could probably give the troll a run for their money. And being the morons that they were, they ran straight after it.

* * *

Hermione Granger wasn't having a good time. She had always known that she was different. Ever since she was young, she was always more interested in books than making friends. But that's not to say that she didn't want to make friends. She did!

They just didn't want to be friends with her. She had been bullied mercilessly in primary school for being the intelligent one in every class. Teacher's pet they called her. Suck up. Brown noser! Tattle tale.

Kids were cruel. And she had decided that she was better off with her books. They at least didn't make fun of her. And then the bouts of accidental magic started happening. Like summoning her favourite book. Or shrinking a jumper. Or turning her mother's hair pink.

It had freaked out her parents quite a bit. Until Professor McGonagall came and explained everything about the existence of a secret magical world and how she was a witch.

It had been everything she had dreamed of. That she could finally belong somewhere. She watched Merlin ever since she was young and King Arthur was her favourite historic figure… ever.

As much as her parents tried to reason with her, that they could send her to the most expensive preparatory schools if she wished – being dentists had their perks – she was adamant about coming to Hogwarts.

As her eleventh birthday was in September, she had had nearly ten months to read on the new world she was about to enter. And she had memorised all the books including Charms, Transfiguration and even Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Professor McGonagall had told her about the different types of wizards and witches there were, namely purebloods, half-bloods, and like her, muggleborns. And how, some people, blood purists think they were better because they didn't have muggle blood in their ancestry.

It sounded an awful lot like racism to her. She had been fascinated however, to learn that a mere one-year old baby had defeated the darkest wizard in history, who was fighting to deny muggleborns like her the right to a magical education and was thus coined the Boy-Who-Lived.

But when she entered the school, she had seen the racism that Professor McGonagall talked about. Not only was she made fun of because of crap load of bushy hair, and large front teeth – being called bucktooth beaver by some – she was also prejudiced against for being a muggleborn, particularly by Slytherins.

She had been told by a lot of people, on the train and then in Gryffindor how the Slytherins didn't like anyone who was half-blood or less. That they only accepted purebloods. They had to tolerate half-bloods simply because there weren't too many purebloods left, at least in Britain.

And from what she had seen and experienced, everyone was right. Even Alexander's brother, Hadrian, spoke of muggles with disdain. From the way he lamented the fact that his parents had named him after a muggle emperor, it was pretty obvious.

That alone prompted her not to be friends with him. She had assumed that's what he was trying to do, since he sat on her table every single day. But they didn't speak and she was content with that. But of the Slytherins, she could safely say that she was one of the few who didn't bully her or call her names.

It wasn't so prevalent in her house; Gryffindor was pretty tolerant. Alexander's mother herself was a muggleborn and Hermione absolutely admired her. Lily Potter was her favourite teacher next to Professor McGonagall.

But she didn't get along well with the people in her own house either. The girls she shared the dormitory with, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Sophie Roper would much rather gossip, giggle and talk about boys. While Hermione was the same bookworm, she had been in the muggle world.

And when she tried to help others with their homework, or things they were getting wrong, she was looked at with scorn. Like today, in Charms, she had really tried to help Ronald with his incantation, he had blown up at her, and told her to do if she was smart enough. Of course, since she had practised the charm before, she had done it the first time, getting her ten points for Gryffindor.

Well perhaps she had been a little forceful. She was already annoyed by how Hadrian had put down Gryffindor earlier. Not by calling them dunderheads like Professor Snape does but by providing a logical argument.

Dumbledore was her hero. The one who fought for muggleborn rights in a time where purebloods wanted to kick them out. And he was a Gryffindor. She refused to believe that no Gryffindors had done something for society, but he spoke with evidence.

And as much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't. Especially as she didn't know much about it in the first place. And she didn't like not knowing things. So yes, she had been a little annoyed when she had tried to help Ronald.

But then, Ronald Weasley had grumbled to his friend, Alexander Potter about her being a know-it-all, pouting, with head on his hands, closed on top of his book.

She would have ignored it, if she hadn't heard him say to Alexander, at the end of Charms, mimicking her. 'Levehohhhsa, not leveohsaaa.' He called her a nightmare, and that was why she had no friends.

In that moment of weakness, all the pain, the bullying, the isolation and loneliness had come crashing down on her, and the water works started. And so, she had been in the girl's bathroom for hours, crying.

And furious at herself for crying and not being to able to stop crying. Angry at her own weakness at letting bullies get to her. Again.

But that was all soon forgotten when, wiping her tears, she had stepped out of the cubicle, only to come face to face with a very angry looking, fully grown mountain troll. It yelled. She screamed. It lifted its club and she rushed back into the cubicle she had just exited, crouching down.

'AHHHH!' she screamed, when the troll swung its absurdly large club, smashing all the cubicles in one go, the wood splintering and falling on top of her. She crawled, on her front, trying to get away from the troll, as fast as she could manage, her heart hammering and fear crippling her. This was going to be her death. In a stinky bathroom. She knew it.

The doors burst open and she looked back, unable to believe they were here.

'Hermione, move!' Alexander yelled and ran forward into the bathroom, Ronald after him as they started pelting the troll with the broken pieces of the wooden cubicles.

* * *

'AAAHHH!' there was scream from inside the bathroom and Harry whipped his head around, stopping himself from leaving when he had seen the idiot duo run in there. Was someone there? Then the girl screamed again.

'Hermione, move!' he heard Alexander's yell.

Ah crap! What the hell was Granger doing in there. Shouldn't she be at the feast? Should he leave them to it, for them to sort it out themselves? No. He was condemning the girl to her death. Potter and Weasel were almost as stupid itself. They wouldn't be able to save her.

Cursing himself for his stupid Gryffindorish instinct, he ran forward, trying to brainstorm whatever he knew about trolls. Mountain trolls in particular. He may be going in there but he wasn't going to be an idiot Gryffindor and rush in there without a plan. He needed a plan! Think, Potter think!

'HELP!' he came in just in time to see Granger crawl under a sink when the troll crushed the previous one with a swing of its club.

But what dumbfounded him was what the idiot duo were doing. What in the name of Merlin! They were picking up broken tiles, sink pieces and wooden palates and chucking them at the troll, barely grazing it.

'What are you morons doing?!' he yelled at them.

'Saving her of course!'

'Why are you doing here you slimy snake!'

It grunted annoyedly. The idiots were only making it angrier.

'You stupid, bloody muggles! Use your wands!' Harry yelled, shaking his head at their utter stupidity.

Harry quickly searched for the weaknesses of this foe. The ones that immediately stood out to him were all the top. Ears, eyes, and nose. Trolls skin was spell resistant, incredibly so. Likely, anything he threw at it would have no effect and only serve to annoy it more.

However, the magical resistance probably didn't apply at anything not covered by its skin. Like its eyes. How the hell would he get up there?

His wand wanted a fight. He could tell. It wanted Harry to prove itself worthy of wielding it. 'HELP!' she screamed again, as the troll lifted its club, intending on swinging it from behind it and bringing it down on top of the girl hiding under the sink.

This was the only chance he would get. Cursing himself for his Gryffindorish-ness, Harry ran forward, and in a moment that was either utter stupidity or sheer brilliance, that Snape would have a heart attack thinking about, he grabbed onto the club just as the troll lifted it into the air.

'What the hell?!' both Alexander and Weasel yelled in surprise.

'Woahhh!' Harry just managed to keep himself on it as the club swung over the dustbin sized head of the disgusting beast. He let go and in a moment that surprised even himself, he landed on the troll's shoulders, sitting with his legs on either side of the head.

Surprised itself, the troll shook his head and then its entire body, with Harry clinging on to the sides of its head for dear life. 'Aaah!'

'DO SOMETHING!' Granger yelled, horrified at the scene before her.

'What?!' Weasel shrugged, looking around for more things to throw.

Alexander just realised what Harry had said, taunting them about being muggles. Taking out his wand, he aimed and yelled, 'STUPEFY!'

The light red light flew past Harry and slammed into the troll's shoulder, doing nothing.

'MORON! Aim properly or you'll hit me, fool!' was the response he got from his brother.

'What am I supposed to do then. You tell me if you're so smart?' Alexander yelled back.

Alexander was useless. That was a fact now.

'Take Granger and get the hell out of here!'

Harry flicked his wrist, and his palm instinctively grabbing the thirteen inches of yew on the end. The wand was singing, anticipating battle. The thunderbird wanted to soar and the Nundu wanted blood.

It wanted to gorge on the enemy. Both of them wanted to utterly destroy their foe. Who dares stand against them? Who dares think they can defy their master?

Harry agreed. The troll made a grab for Harry's leg but years from running from Dudley and dodging Uncle Vernon's fists had made Harry quite fast. He dodged the hand grabbing at him, swinging himself around the head.

He saw the hand trying again, but Harry didn't give it a chance. He felt the same power he felt in the common room earlier, surging through him. But this time not on instinct, but because he needed it. The hand came to get him. Harry dodged. Again. With all his strength, he took his rigid and unyielding wand, arched his arm as far as he could, and jammed it straight into the troll's eye.

A horrible squelching sound was heard as the yew penetrated the membrane into the troll's head. The troll screamed in agony, trying to smash the nuisance that was causing him such pain. But Harry had one hand still on the hand that was partly in the troll's eye.

Lightning burst through the wand as the troll continued to scream. Though it couldn't be seen, Harry knew it. He realised he hadn't called for it, just as he, with a little difficulty completed the right-sided V needed for the curse, pushing as much as magic in the wand as possible. The troll enclosed its fist into a punch.

The punch drew closer to him!

He let go of all the magic, wanting, needing, with all his intent and will, to reduce the troll's head, 'Reducto!' he whispered.

The punch landed. He screamed in agony as his ribs cracked under the pressure. There was a flash of black fire and a screech of bird.

The crackle of lighting from the wand changed to a flash of electric blue light and Harry didn't need to see to know that he had won. The troll's head burst into a shower of blood, brains, bone and gore as the immense body collapsed, dead.


	4. Reflections, Revelations and Corrections

'No!'

A chair fell to the floor with a crash as James suddenly stood up, 'Lily, don't you see,' he argued with his wife. He would not back down from this.

Lily too was adamant, 'James, we don't know that it was him.' She picked up the fallen chair, fixing the crack in its leg with a flick of her wand. James and Harry both had a remarkable habit of damaging furniture when they were angry. If the situation wasn't so serious, she would have found it funny.

But as it happened, it was quite a serious situation. Enough to concern even Dumbledore. Last night, a troll had gotten loose in the castle, somehow and who to find it but her two sons. She swore that in place of any sense from her, they inherited all of James' recklessness.

'Alex said so himself,' James waved his hands around exasperatedly, 'And so did his friends. Lily, he jammed his unnatural wand into the troll's head and burst it.'

Lily sighed, 'They don't know what happened. They were confused because it happened at the same time as the phoenix appeared out of nowhere.'

That was another concerning matter. Not only was a phoenix, which was known to be a creature of the light, had appeared to Harry instead of Alexander, but it was a black version of it. Unlike James who immediately condemned it as a dark creature, she admitted that she didn't know nearly enough about them to merit a guess.

'So, what are you saying? That the phoenix killed the troll and not Harry himself,' James looked at her as if she had lost her mind, ignoring all the evidence.

'Yes. That is more likely. James, Harry couldn't even levitate a feather in class, and he was really trying. Hermione said that there a flash of fire. Maybe that's what killed the troll,' she argued, albeit weakly. Even she could see that that was a weak argument.

'And what about his wand, huh?' James paced back and forth.

She had to concede that all things considered, it was too much of a coincidence, 'One thing is certain. His wand is dangerous. We'll ask Mr. Ollivander for his opinion.'

'Fine. And then you'll see that he will agree with me,' James plopped down onto the chair again, frowning as if deep in thought. Lily was tired, having had the same argument last night as well. Expectedly when she had informed her husband, Sirius and Rose had been present as well and both were quite concerned as well.

They hadn't had a chance to tell them that everything was fine. That Alexander wasn't hurt, and Harry was recovering well, or so Madam Pomfrey told them.

'Harry shouldn't have killed the poor creature,' she admitted. As a muggleborn, she knew very well what it was like to be prejudiced against. Just because it was a troll was no reason to kill so mercilessly. She had to admit, this action of Harry's was quite concerning.

'He's going dark, Lily,' James said weakly, pouring himself another class of firewhisky, 'And if we don't do anything, he might grow up to be a threat to Alex.'

She shook her head, 'Not if we put him on the right path. He did try to save Hermione after all. He wouldn't have if he was dark, would he?'

Lily smiled as James expectedly grumbled, when he doesn't want to concede to her point.

* * *

'_NO!' the man shouted, 'I refuse to allow you take my son to England!' _

'_He's my son as well and he will be safe!' the woman yelled back, her black hair more wild than it usually was. _

'_England is in a war,' the man was pacing back and forth. 'All because of that maniac!' _

'_DON'T YOU DARE!' the woman screeched, losing her temper all of a sudden. 'Don't you dare insult the Dark Lord!' _

'_He hunted down my family and is destroying your country,' the man seemed adamant to make his wife see the truth. _

'_It's for a good cause. Our child can one day grow up in a world unplagued by muggle filth!' the woman was getting increasingly annoyed, having the same argument for what was like the hundredth time. 'Don't you want that for him.' _

'_Of course, I do, but the way he is going about it is wrong,' he shook his head. 'And I refuse to let you make my son into his slave!' the man let out a red blast from his wand._

_The woman yelled, deflecting light with her own wand, 'He has my name! I will make raise him to be a powerful wizard one day and he will be His greatest servant.'_

* * *

'Come away from the infirmary,' Lily told them both, looking back through the door to see if Harry was still asleep. Thankfully, he was or this would be much more difficult.

Once they walked a sufficient distance away, and were out of earshot of any potential eavesdroppers and Poppy's wrath, they were safe.

'So, what do you think?' her husband asked, looking at the old man examining the white bark of wood that was his son's wand.

'Hmmm,' Ollivander's said in his usual raspy voice, 'Yes… Thirteen inches, yew, thunderbird feather and Nundu heartstring, unyielding, rather like a walnut wand I once sold,' he shook his head in apparent dismay.

This increased their concerns exponentially, 'So you agree that my son shouldn't have such a dark wand, right?' asked James, looking slightly hopeful.

That hopeful look was taken away, when Ollivander made a chiding sound, 'I had thought a wizard of your calibre would know that it's not the wand that's good or evil, but the wizard himself…. Especially since your other son has the brother to the Dark Lord's wand.' He scolded them both like they were little children – which to someone of his age and experience, they were.

Both Lily and James at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed. But James rallied, 'That may the problem. What if he's going dark?!'

'He's an eleven-year-old child, Mr. Potter,' Ollivander chided him. 'It's too early to know if he's going to be a dark wizard or not. Moreover, I do not sense any dark magic used with this wand.'

'You're joking. He has a dark phoenix for Merlin's sake!' James waved his arms around exasperatedly.

Ollivander's eyes lit up at that statement, 'Yes, I had nearly forgotten. How very curious….'

But seeing as they still wanted an explanation, he continued, 'I cannot say why a phoenix chose to appear for him. As they are incredibly sentient creatures. However, what I can say, is that the dark phoenix isn't evil in the sense you're thinking of.'

Both were confused at the statement, 'Then why did it kill the troll instead of subduing it?'

It was the first they had seen or heard Ollivander laugh, his rasp prominent, 'Mr. Potter. The phoenix didn't kill the troll!'

Lily gasped in shock. She had been wrong about her own son. Oh no!

'Then it was Harry! I knew it!' James grew even more impatient, and he glared at the wand in Ollivander's hand.

'No, Mr. Potter. It wasn't him either,' Ollivander sighed, shaking his head. What were they teaching these days if they couldn't understand something as simple as that? 'It was the wand itself that initiated the curse.'

'What?!'

'Thunderbird feather wands have a propensity for firing fire or lightning curses pre-emptively, when their master is in mortal peril and they sense danger, much like phoenix feather wands can act of their own accord as well. In this matter, both your sons have remarkably similar wands, other than the obvious of course,' he lectured the children, as if they were still in school.

James and Lily both weren't quite appeased with this answer but they both knew they couldn't hold Mr. Ollivander here longer. Particularly as he had nothing more to tell them. But Lily had one last question, 'You said that the wands aren't light or dark but the wizard is. That makes sense. But is this wand capable of it?'

James snapped his bowed head, wanting to know the answer himself.

Ollivander nodded, getting a gasp from the Potters. 'Yes… but then so are yours. Some wands are more attuned to dark magic than others… This one… Yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, which of course, can be said for all wands; and yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of duelling and curses. Yet it is untrue to say that the yew possessor is more likely to be attracted to the Dark Arts than others. The witch or wizard might equally prove a fierce protector of others.'

They both nodded as Ollivander left, promising to send them the phoenix feather wand, in a different wood, to them once he was back at their shop.

'What do you think?' Lily asked her husband, as they walked towards her living quarters.

'I still think we should be cautious,' James seemed adamant and likely wasn't going to give up on this. 'He won't be awake for another two days, Poppy says.'

'I don't like this, James. It's his wand,' Lily was feeling particularly uncomfortable going through with what James had proposed, in case Ollivander confirmed their suspicions. And he had, to some extent.

'I know, Lily-flower, I know,' James sighed, taking the wand and putting it in his pocket. 'But think of it as righting as wrong. We should have never let him go to Gregorovitch's shop. And besides, it's only been a week, he hasn't had the chance to form a bond with it yet.' Lily nodded, albeit reluctantly.

'So, we give it to Padfoot to hide it, tell Harry that it broke and give him a replacement phoenix wand.'

* * *

There was the young woman from his dreams again. Her voice was quivering, nothing like the strong, commanding voice of before. Her tears fell onto his face as she hugged him to her.

_Hush child. The darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep  
Hush child. The darkness will rise from the deep  
And carry you down into sleep_

_Guiless son, I'll shape your belief  
And you'll always know  
That your father's a thief _

_And you won't understand, the cause of your grief  
But you'll always follow the voices beneath_

_Loyalty, loyalty  
Loyalty, loyalty_

_Guiless son, your spirit will hate her  
The flower who married my brother, the traitor  
And you will expose, his puppeteer behaviour  
For you are the proof, of how he betrayed her loyalty_

'_I'll come back soon,' _

_A woman's insane cackle…. A flash of green light…. A woman screaming, 'HARRYY!'_

The last he remembered from her face were the purple eyes. As flash of green light

'No!' Harry awoke with a start, his breathing heavy and fast, his vision clouded and his hair slick with sweat, slapped onto his forehead. Looking around for any threats when he realised where he was. The sun of the day was shining through the window overlooking the Hogwarts grounds, reflecting somewhat from the stainless window of the hospital wing.

Before he had any chance to calm his breathing, the matron came rushing out of her office, 'Ah. Mr. Potter. Good, you're awake.'

He watched her warily, not at all trusting her when she drew her wand and waved it around on him muttering incantations, her frown turning into a smile. 'Good, it seems the potions have worked.'

His throat was so parched that it hurt when he croaked, 'What happened?'

His head was so fuzzy and with his dreams and hearing voices, he barely remembered what was going on.

'You don't remember?' she asked, then lighting up her wand tip, and holding each of his eyelids up while shining the light in each eye, annoying him. 'Follow my finger, Mr. Potter,' she moved the finger of her left hand from one side to other and he followed it with his eyes. 'Good. No signs of a concussion. Unfortunately, memory can be sometimes hazy when you hit your head. Especially when coupled with magical exhaustion.'

'Hit my head? How…' now Harry was even more confused. And then with a startle, he remembered what happened. 'The troll?!'

'Indeed,' the woman's expression darkened. 'I don't know what they're doing with this school's security. How can a troll get in with no one the wiser?' she grumbled and then turned to him. 'You were very lucky, Mr. Potter. Very lucky indeed.'

'Lucky?' Harry still didn't understand what she was talking about.

'Indeed. It was very unwise of you to run after a troll, Mr. Potter! But thankfully, Mr. Ollivander said, that your wand knew what to do. It fired the curse pre-emptively to k… subdue the troll. Unfortunately, in doing so, it drove you nearly to the point of magical exhaustion and with your Myrridian index, it's not a surprise.'

Harry bristled in anger at the insult but she didn't seem to notice. He done the damn deed himself. He had killed the troll himself. Not the wand… right?

'You bruised your kidney, and fractured four ribs,' Madam Pomfrey completed the list of his injuries. 'But fear not, I fixed them in a giffy.'

'Oh, right… Thank you,' Harry said truthfully. He actually was glad she had done it for him when he was unconscious. Because he really didn't trust her, not after what she had done. 'How long have I been out, Madam Pomfrey?'

'Three days, Mr. Potter,' she replied.

'What?!' Harry coughed back on the water he had been drinking. 'Three days!'

'Indeed. You were nearly magically exhausted, Mr. Potter! It is no laughing matter!'

Harry nodded and laid back down. The spell, the curse or whatever happened to the wand must have done a real number on him. That was when he noticed the small pile of sweets on the table beside him. He frowned. Who the hell would give him something? He was the pariah of the school?

'Oh, that's from, Morag,' he looked back to see Blaise casually walk in to infirmary with Tracey and plop down on the chair beside him. He had been about to reach for the box of chocolates nearest to him.

Harry looked from Blaise to Tracey who were busy looking through the boxes and some cards to notice his surprise. At last, he regained his composure and managed to ask, 'What?'

They looked at him, amused. 'Seriously, Potter. You fight one troll and suddenly you get amnesia?' Blaise smirked.

Harry looked from him to Tracey and then repeated, 'What?!'

Tracey's eye widened as she scooted closer, 'You don't really have amnesia, do you Harry. This is Blaise, and I'm Tracey and you're Harry…'

'I know who you are,' Harry snapped. 'I meant what's all this?' he pointed to the chocolate frogs, Bertie Botts every flavour bean boxes, and two cards.

'Oh this,' Blaise said, as if he had just seen the boxes from which he had been nicking the chocolates. 'These are just some gifts from your admirers. No big deal?'

Tracey snorted, 'Of course it is, Harry is famous now,' she giggled as Harry scowled at her. Is that why they were here, bothering with him now that he had something worthwhile? He didn't know if she should like that or not.

'Admirers?' Harry asked, sitting up and opening a box of chocolates.

'Yeh. I mean after you killed the troll and all,' Tracey shrugged, opening a card for him and reading it with a knowing smirk on her face. 'Including this particular one.'

Harry rolled his eyes but focused on the food for now. He was hungry. That was until Blaise popped the inevitable question. 'So, Potter, what's the story?'

Harry snorted, 'You two tell me. I've been out for three days.'

They shared a look with each, probably deciding who was going to break the bad news. 'Well, you see…' Tracey hesitated.

'They think you're a budding dark lord,' Blaise suddenly said, ripping off the proverbial bandage, much to Harry's relief.

Harry snorted, which turned into a chuckle, which turned into more chuckles which turned into full blown cackling which didn't subsided for a few minutes.

Blaise and Tracey looked at each other, both confused as to what set him off, and a little disturbed by the insane sounding cackle. 'Um… how hard did you hit your head, Potter.'

Harry shook his head, still chuckling, 'So, tell me. What are they saying?'

He was beyond the point of caring what the bloody school thought of him but he needed some amusement at least.

'You should know, Potter. Something happened when you were out and your mother has some mistaken impressions of you,' Blaise was being his usual cryptic self.

'What?' Harry asked. 'My mother? What?'

'We were here, when your parents and brother came to visit and when Potter chose that moment to argue that slimy snakes shouldn't be here, your mother sat beside the bed. And after a while, you mumbled something,' he replied, looking awfully interested in the bed post.

Oh no. Harry wasn't getting a good feeling about this. 'Mumbled, what?'

'Oh, would you look at the time,' Blaise made an exaggerated show of looking at his expensive, wizarding watch. 'It really flies when you're having fun isn't it. Well time for Binns.'

And with that the impudent boy left the infirmary.

'Wait, Zabini. Get back here,' Harry called out but he was already gone. 'Damn Italians.'

Tracey chuckled, at the fleeing boy, 'Don't mind him. He's not fond of discussing feelings.'

'Feelings?' he said, looking at her as if she had grown a second head. Tracey just rolled her eyes, mumbling something like, 'Boys!' before biting off the head of the chocolate frog.

'So, umm,' Harry hesitated, not wanting to be rude, but he was also confused. 'What are you doing here?'

She frowned, looking up from the card she had been reading, 'Visiting a friend who so gallantly – if a bit Gryffindorishly – went off to save a muggleborn from certain death by a troll only to be hindered from his noble quest by two idiots, causing him to be injured and landing him here.'

Harry scowled, 'I don't have any friends.' Something was going here and she was up to something, he could tell. He could tell Blaise wanted some profit from all of this, but he would worry about that later.

But Tracey… he refused to believe that she was here out of the goodness of her heart. He mentally scoffed. As if there is such a thing as that… among Slytherins at least.

Tracey frowned at his comment, her head snapping up, 'Yes you do… Look, I know it's hard being in Slytherin and standing out and… Look, we're friends okay!'

She seemed to be hesitating coming up with something to say so he provided a topic to her, 'Oh really?' he asked sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes, 'Yes, Harry. Look at this,' she motioned towards the card but Harry had other ideas.

'Then tell me. Who was it that spread the rumour about my squib status?'

She seemed stunned for a moment at his blunt question. Her eyes widened a little before she schooled them, but Harry saw it. 'I…I don't know, Harry… I mean, I could look into it, for you.'

'You're Tracey Davis, the gossip source of the school,' he said, rolling his eyes, 'Of course, you would know.'

She bristled a little, annoyed that he would call her information gathering skills, gossip… Well, she did gossip too, 'Hey! I'm not as bad as Parvati or that slag Lavender.'

He smirked, having already got the answer to the first part of his question, 'Then you know. Tell me?'

Harry asked, staring into her annoyed, narrowed eyes. What did she have to be annoyed at? He was the one who was the pariah of the school.

'How do you know it wasn't Alex or Weasel or someone?' she asked him.

'It wouldn't be my family, since it would taint them by association, and while it could have potentially been a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, I doubt it. I'm not an enemy to them. That leaves the Slytherins. So, who was it? Was it Weitt? Or Flint? Or Draco? Let me guess, it was Pansy, right?'

As they glared into each other's eyes, neither backing down. Harry refusing to let this line of questioning go and Tracey, seemingly refusing to answer him. Harry desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. No doubt, she knew who it was but for some reason choosing to hide it from him.

Harry felt himself being pulled, like through a force or gravitational pull. He felt a lurch in his stomach, only it started in his head. Like he was falling down a particularly deep ravine, darkness, blackness consumed his vision. Then as soon as it had come, his vision.

Only Tracey wasn't sitting in front of him anymore in the hospital wing. She was sitting on a bed in front of Daphne. What in name of Merlin?

'You did what?' Tracey asked, looking confused.

'I spread the news about his Myrridian index…,' Daphne replied.

'Daffy, how could you?' Tracey gasped, her hands flowing to her mouth in surprise, looking incensed.

Daphne looked at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, 'Revenge,' she answered.

'Still Daff. It's a bit much. All the poor boy did was a little harmless flirting,' she narrowed her eyes at her friend. 'That is no reason to be so vicious.'

'Harmless? He's a menace, Trace! Mother told me this would happen eventually. That boys would start hitting on me. But it's even worse because he's nearly a squib, not even a proper wizard!' Daphne spat, huffing and folding her arms underneath her budding chest.

Tracey shook her exasperatedly, 'I can't believe that Daffy. Otherwise how would he have gotten a letter to Hogwarts, not mention a wand!'

'Thirty-five,' was all her friend replied. 'His index is thirty-five.'

Harry felt his heart breaking. How could she do something like that? So vindictive. So cruel… What had he ever done to her to warrant such malicious slander? His breathing increased drastically. She was just like the Dursleys. At least they didn't hide it behind a polite façade.

Why would she do something like that. Why would she make him suffer constant jeering, taunts and scorn, not only from the rest of the school but the house that was supposed to accept him. Protect him even. Side with him. Was liking her and telling her that he liked her such a crime?

Then his heartbreak turned into anger, giving him… resolve.

Then, he saw her, standing next to him, taking her wand out. He heard his own yelp of horror and saw from behind, how he had horns; then he fell down the stairs with jelly legs jinx; then a leg locker curse.

Rage rose inside him and he felt Tracey's anger as well. But it was somehow disconnected. Like it wasn't originating from her.

Harry shook his head, clearing it of the weird images. What in the world was going on? Was he conjuring them himself? Was he that delirious that he would conjure up images of himself jinxing himself?

'Harry…,' he refocused, seeing her confused look… and a little anxious.

'Who was it, Tracey?' he asked, his voice having lost his previous smugness, and mirth. Now it was just… little. 'Who slandered me?'

She shook her head, 'I… don't….'

'Liar,' Harry spat and she recoiled, shocked by this sudden change. 'You're lying!' Previously they had been talking in relatively low volume. Now, he didn't care if others could hear him.

'Harry…I,' Tracey tried to calm him down, putting her hand on top of his but he instantly flinched, withdrawing it.

'Fine, don't tell me!' Harry spat, flinging his legs around to get off from the bed. He searched around, left and right, up and down the bed, on the bedside table and inside. 'Tracey where's my wand! My wand, Tracey!'

'I… I don't know... Harry,' Tracey shook her head vigorously. She had no idea what was going on. One minute they were talking peacefully, and the next he was looking like he might explode.

Harry's nostrils flared; his eyes prickled.

'Harry… Harry, get back here!' she yelled, trying to catch up to him.

But he was in no mood to listen. He sprinted out from the hospital wing, vaguely registering the fact that not only Tracey but also Madam Pomfrey were calling after him. But he refused to stop. He was glad the classes were in session so no one in the hallways saw him sprint to the welcoming embrace of the biting cold air outside. And that was no one was to see the tears streaming down his face.

He didn't know how long he had run. But he did know that he needed to be away from the castle. Away from the scheming people. Away from the liars who pretend to be friends and then plot behind his back. Away from vindictive blonde girls and their lying brunette friends.

He was not going to believe any of them. He was a stupid, moronic idiot. Almost as stupid as Weasel and Alexander, for opening up to Tracey on the occasional instances they did talk like friends.

He didn't care as his robes got wet as he waded through the knee-deep water to get to his island. He didn't want to go back and face the liars and deceivers. And so, he stayed on the little island, among the plants, the tree and the bowtruckles where at least he felt accepted.

He didn't care as he sat there for hours and he certainly didn't care that it had started raining and that he was drenched. And he didn't care that he was coming down with a fever. He didn't care that somewhere deep down he wished that he was in Gryffindor.

And he didn't care as he lay down, in the pouring rain, when snakes came up to him, some slithering onto him, asking what had made him so sad.

He didn't register the singing of a bird somewhere, that was soothing and relaxing. He didn't register it lessening the pain in his heart.

And he certainly didn't care that the last thing he saw in his head was a fully formed image of the face of a beautiful, black haired woman with startling purple eyes. And he most certainly didn't care that the last word that escaped his mouth before falling to sleep was, 'Mum.'

* * *

'Hmmm,' he moaned as he sank deeper into the silk covered pillows fluffed around, and into the bed was far softer than he had ever slept on in his life. This was heaven, he thought, in his sleep addled mind.

The bed was warm; it wasn't raining; the silk sheets were dry and he wasn't cold. The pillows were like marshmallows and there wasn't stone under his head. This was nice.

'What is Potter doing here?' came the usual drawl-snarl of his head of house. Just like that, the pleasant dream of soft pillows, warm beds and silk sheets came to a crashing end.

Harry's eyes snapped open, ears instantly finding the source of that voice, his heart hammering. What was going to happen to him now. The last thing he remembered was lying down on the ground on the island.

Then another voice made its way through, 'Magical exhaustion, if you must know.'

He recognised that voice too. What were they both doing on the island? He shook his head to get rid of the haze. This was happening to him much too often for his liking.

'And you took him here instead of the hospital wing?'

Harry might be sleep addled but even in his state he could imagine the sneer on his face and hear the threat in his voice.

'After what she has done, trust her, he doesn't,' she replied. But that was all he heard as all of a sudden, all sound coming to him stopped.

Shaking his head, Harry took a look around, momentarily confused. This wasn't the island. The pillows, and the bed and the sheets were still here. And he recognised the décor. Ancient Greece.

What in the name of Merlin is happening? Why was he in Cassia's living quarters. Horror consumed him for a moment. Oh no. Merlin no! Someone please tell him he didn't go to her in his horrendous state, crying.

Oh no, he did, didn't he? Shit! He buried his head in his hands. How was he ever going to face her again? What if she told Andromeda? He would lose two teachers at once because of his weakness. He cursed his stupidity. He cursed himself for letting himself cry. Even if solitude. At this point, he was only glad that snakes couldn't tell anyone.

Wait… snakes? Oh right, they had come up to him. Hurriedly, he looked everywhere that his skin was exposed. They didn't bite?

Another memory made its way to his confuddled head. But this time he was sure he made it up. Who was the woman he dreamt up? Sometimes she was shouting. And sometimes crying. And sometimes singing. The dreams had increased ever since he got his wand. But never before had her face been so clear. But Merlin, was she beautiful.

The door creaked open and Harry turned to see Cassia standing there in her… sleeping robes? Okay, this was weird.

'Ah, you're awake,' she said, smiling at his confused expression. 'How do you feel?'

It took Harry a moment to gather his thoughts, as he was still processing that she was talking normally. 'Fine… Professor. I…,' Harry looked down, not wanting to see in her in such risky clothing. But she seemed to notice it.

She chuckled, 'Well, I'd prefer if you'd call me Tessa, remember?', sitting on the edge of the bed, making Harry desperately uncomfortable as she was so near.

Ignoring it, she put her hand on his forehead, 'Good. You don't have a fever anymore.'

'Umm,' he started but was cut off.

'Don't say umm. It's unbecoming…,' said Tessa seriously, setting down the breakfast tray on Harry's bed.

'Right…,' Harry was still confused as to what the hell was going and decided to be abrupt, 'What am I doing here?'

Adding more to his confusion, the woman started laughing. Not a full-blown laugh but a laugh nonetheless. He failed to see how that was funny. Maybe was still dreaming. 'And here I thought you were going to try and gather information like Andromeda's no doubt teaching you.'

Harry frowned, not wanting to say that the woman had been almost right, 'I thought this might get me the answers quicker.'

She chuckled, putting spreading clotted cream one of the scones on the tray. 'Indeed,' she took her time eating the scone whilst Harry waited. 'Eat first, talk later,' Tessa said, getting off the bed and striding out of the room.

Having no idea what happened or how he even got here, Harry felt it would be better if he just obeyed without question… for now. Besides, its not like she meant him any harm. Unlike Snape no doubt did.

As he ate his breakfast – and a lot of it – since he was quite sure he hadn't had any food in three days, Harry tried to assemble the jumbled thoughts and memories in his head.

Starting from the first thing he remembered in the last few days. After Charms, he had gone to the library to research Tessa's family, but could find very little information on Grecian families. Then he had gone into the common room, where the insufferable Grace Weitt had set his notes and his poor raven chick on fire.

Ever since he had woken up, what he presumed last night, he had grieved the burning death of the poor creature. Then Harry had somehow fought Grace, his wand had emitted lightning, for some reason.

And she had collapsed. Oh no! Oh crap. He had destroyed her wand. What a nightmare. He had no affection for the girl but even he knew that destroying someone's wand, especially one who had six years long bond with it – as opposed to a new one – was a heinous crime.

Snape was probably going to kill for that. If Weitt doesn't first.

And then the disaster with the troll. Yes, he had managed to kill the damn thing but at what cost. Just so he could pass out for the next three days. And then he had woken up in the hospital wing, had the weird images playing in his head, had an argument with Tracey, lost his newly acquired wand and ran to the island where he fell asleep, crying.

Harry nodded, confident that he had it all in order in his head. And then he cursed himself for his stupidity and his weakness. And his stupid, fucking, Gryffindorish tendencies he had no doubt inherited from both of his parents.

As is evidenced by the fact that he had done exactly what idiotic duo, Weasel and Alexander had done. Charged headlong into danger without a shred of a plan. What a Slytherin! He might as well one of the idiotic trio.

And all for what. For a muggleborn girl who didn't even deign to talk to him, because he was confident the idiotic duo would bollocks it up. Why did he even care? Who had talked to him civilly in the train but kept frowning at him ever since he got sorted into a Gryffindor? Why had he even tried to save someone with muggle filth in their veins?

Moreover, if he had done it for the sake of winning the wand's allegiance, then fat lot of good that did him. He had lost the precious thing. No. He shook his head, not lost it. Someone has it. He was sure of it. The last thing he knew before passing out was that the wand wasn't broken. It was still intact in his hand.

Pushing the anger away and inside, he compiled what the possibilities that could have happened to his wand. One, he fired the curse, bollocks it up and destroyed his wand in the process. Two, he fired the curse, was successful but broke the wand once the troll fell on top of him.

Surely a little wooden stick couldn't stand the weight of a twelve-foot mountain troll. Three, he was successful, didn't break the wand, and the one of the teachers who no doubt arrived on the scene had it with them.

Having finished gorging himself, he put on his robes, grimacing at the thought they were he had been soaked in. He refused to spend any more time thinking that Tessa might have disrobed him.

'Professor Snape was here,' he said, walking into the main living quarters, where she sat reading the Daily Prophet.

'Yes,' she drawled, 'You really do have a talent for stating the obvious,' not looking up from the newspaper.

Harry scowled, not liking the way she was making fun of him, but refrained from saying so. He needed answers and even though she hadn't looked into his eyes, it felt like she had read his mind.

'Your elf, Sookie found you and came to me. I brought you here and you slept the night,' she said, putting down the newspaper and taking a sip of her tea.

'Okay. Now what?' Harry asked, wanting desperately to ask whether he was taken as a mentee or not but the look she was giving him, stopped him.

'Hmm,' she shook her head. 'Your thoughts betray you.'

Through his narrowed eyes, he conceded to her point. He hadn't even felt her probe. 'Please teach me then.'

She put down her tea, 'What do you wish to learn? Astronomy?' she said sarcastically. If the boy hadn't yet figured out that she wasn't an Astronomy teacher, then there might be no hope for him.

'Yes… among other things,' he replied, not actually sure what she wanted as a response.

Qetsiyah sighed, feeling a pang of disappointment in him. Surely, he has researched her family, like all the Slytherins and even a few Ravenclaws must have.

He hadn't thought past getting the mentorship. He had thought she would be the one to decide what he should learn.

'Like what?' it seems that she had different plans. She wanted to know what he wanted to learn.

But what was it? Charms? Transfiguration? No. He knew he didn't just want that.

The answer as clear as day, 'Everything,' he answered, his face set in resolve.

There was a ghost of a smile on her face before she waved raised her hand and pointed to the nearby bookshelf. A wave of her raised hand and a book floated out of the bookcase and onto her waiting palm.

Eyes wide and mouth agape, he watched as she made the wandless summoning so casual and easy. This! This is what he wanted to learn! To be a mage of such power that feats like this was next to nothing. What was the book? Was it on wandless magic? How, did she not strain even a little with that show of magic?

More than once he had asked Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick and even – swallowing his pride – his mother. All of their answers were that such wandless magic was beyond difficult. Yet here she was, sipping her morning tea and making it look trivial.

'Is that so,' she mused, tapping on the back of the book with her rather pointy nails, 'Yes, you've proven yourself that you have sufficient magic and talent to learn. But you're rather… disappointing.'

'What' Harry's head snapped in alarm his eyes wide but she looked completely serious. 'How so?'

'I will not waste time teaching a self-pitying child,' she admonished, not taking her dark eyes off of him.

Harry resisted the urge to look down in embarrassment, realising what she was referring to but only glared at her in defiance. He really didn't like his weaknesses made bare.

But it seemed that she wasn't done embarrassing him, 'You run off at the first sign of the trouble, or you disappear inside, within yourself. Twice already has something happened that you didn't expect, and what did you do? Instead of facing the problem or finding a solution to it, you run off to hide on your little island, crying like a little girl. Like a coward.'

Harry's eyes flared with anger. What did she know about him? She had no idea what it felt like to have a family that first abandoned him, then wished he was just like his brother. One that was ashamed of him enough to get rid of him to muggles. She had no idea. How dare she sit there and take the high ground.

'Yes, I can feel your anger. Your hatred,' she smirked. 'What will you do the next something unexpected happens? You may have used the reductor curse successfully, but I will not waste my time teaching someone whose first reaction to problems is to cry, run and hide.'

'I didn't run to hide!' Harry yelled, jumping up in his own defence. He had heard enough. She had no idea that when he discovered Tracey's knowledge of Daphne's action, his anger had turned to rage which was threatening to lash out at Tracey. He had no flee before he harmed her.

'Don't… lie… to me. Did you or did you not waste the rest of the evening and night crying and then passing out,' she seemed completely unperturbed by his anger and her voice had all of its previous calm.

'I….,' Harry yelled back, but stopped short, not knowing how to counter very valid point. 'I didn't… I didn't know what to do!'

She shook her head and Harry hated the disappointment that was evident on her face as she got up and walked further away. Her voice was still as calm as ever. 'When I saw you walk in here, I saw what all masters live to see. Raw, untamed power! And beyond that, something truly special. The potential of your bloodline…. A new…,' but she trailed off, seemingly decided he had enough information. New what?

Harry mind ran a mile a minute trying to grasp on what she was saying.

'Now,' her voice dropped to a whisper, 'I fear I was mistaken. You are but a petulant, self-pitying child whose first response to anything problematic, is to avoid it.'

'No, it is not!' Harry yelled. He couldn't give a damn right now that he was acting like Alexander but she was pushing all of his buttons and he was beyond angry.

'Oh really? What is that you did when the Slytherins refused you a place at the table. What did you do when you blew up the Charms classroom? What did you do when the Professors refused to help you? And what did you do when faced with the truth while talking to your friend Tracey,' she asked, her voice rising a decibel but still calm…. Somewhat.

'I…,' Harry started to reply, intent on telling her all of the reasons why he had done what he did when face with those situations. That he refused to give the Slytherins the satisfaction. That he didn't want to be caught destroying school property. That he didn't want to hurt Tracey.

'There's no point in getting angry, Harry,' she said, looking at him as if seeing what he would do next. 'Search your feelings, Harry. You'll find the answers you seek.'

Harry clenched his jaw, wanting to tell her just where she could go and shove her feelings but held his tongue. She was no Dudley and this wasn't the Dursleys. He took a deep breath, trying to even out his breathing and trying to get a handle on his anger, get some semblance of calmness.

He succeeded after a minute or two and looked straight into her eyes, knowing she wanted an answer. And as much as he hated to admit his weakness, it was true.

'I didn't want to be embarrassed and laughed at in front of the school. I didn't want 'mother' to see me cry because of her slap. And… I didn't want Tracey to see me hurt because of her lie,' Harry replied through grit teeth and clenched fists.

Swallowing his pride had never been easy for him. He supposed it was a product of growing up with the Dursleys that messed him up in more ways than one.

But as much as hated those truthful answers, it had brought a ghost of a smile to Tessa's face. 'Good. Always remember that self-deception is a weakness. One that I will not tolerate in my student.'

Harry nodded, conceding to her point. He would have to work on it but he was willing.

'Now then, having realised your follies, how you deal with your housemates at lunch including Ms. Weitt will determine whether or not I take you on as my student,' Tessa replied, walking over to the balcony overlooking the Hogwarts courtyard.

'I will not disappoint you, Tessa,' Harry replied, and knowing a dismissal when he saw one, he took his leave.

As he left the Astronomy tower, he didn't see Tessa incantate, 'Forbaerne acwele!'

A small, spiralling ball of blue light the size of a snitch appeared in her open palm, which slowly swirled into an orb.

What she saw in it gave her pause but only for a second for she knew who she was speaking to. An emaciated, old man sitting in a dark cell, on a cold floor covered by a tattered blanket with more holes than wool. Yet for all the weakness apparent on the man, it was his heterochromia – one eye black and the other white, as if having lost its sight – showed his sharp mind. 'It is done, my Master,' she bowed in reverence, holding the orb of light in her right hand.

For the first time in decades, the man smiled, showing his mouth empty of any teeth. 'Good. Good… You have done, well my apprentice.'

'Is he the one, Master?' she asked, keeping all her emotions in check, knowing this was the last time she was talking to her mentor. But still, somewhere deep inside, she was hesitant to let him go.

'Yes, I have foreseen it,' her mentor replied, turning to look at what she presumed was the door of his cage, and for a second she saw a hint of emotion in those lifeless eyes. Was it happiness? Or resignation? Or maybe it was anticipation. 'Farewell, my young apprentice. The circle is now complete.'

'Goodbye, Master.'

The orb in her hand disappeared and she turned away from the balcony, paying no mind to one lone tear streaking down her cheek. No. She will not do what she just admonished the child on. There was much work to be done.

* * *

Harry hadn't spent much time after the weird and highly awkward encounter with Tessa. After she had dismissed him, he had done his morning runs and spent quite a lot of time flying on the quidditch pitch using one of the school's brooms.

He was just glad that yesterday was a Sunday, and they didn't have any classes. How he would attend any of them without his wand he didn't know. But he was certain about one thing. One of the damn meddlesome teachers had his wand and hadn't come forward with it yet.

He was sure Snape didn't have it. His hateful head of house had been a right piece of work after he summoned Harry to his office, where he proceeded to give him a thorough dressing down for his idiotic, foolish Gryffindorish acts and how he was lucky Snape wasn't expelling him outright.

Harry couldn't help but agree more. But after Snape was done yelling – or rather, drawling in his sinister voice – he had been quite shocked that Harry had lost his wand, yet again. Which then prompted another stern lecture about keeping his weapon, which meant his life, safe.

So that eliminated him. Snape, despite his anger, had told he would investigate. And so, as loathed as he was, Harry was forced to wait an entire day, counting the minutes when it would pass. According to Snape, McGonagall and Quirrell was with him when they found Harry under the troll, along with Alexander, Weasel and Granger in the bathroom.

As per the rules, Snape had picked up his wand and placed it on his bedside table – which Harry thought was quite stupid given the number of enemies he has. It had disappeared from there. But Harry hadn't sat idle. He had scoured the books provided by the Room, trying to find some method or some obscure spell that would let him track his lost wand. So far, he had come up with nothing.

As such, he hadn't gone back to the Slytherin common room or his dormitory. Walking into an obviously hostile territory without a weapon was just plain stupidity.

And whatever Harry was, he hadn't survived two months in the snake pit, a hostile school and ten years with his hateful relatives by being stupid. No doubt the others had raised questions about his disappearance, given that he hadn't actually been seen by any Slytherins since running away – how he hated to admit that – from the hospital wing.

The only good thing that had come out of the previous few days was the appearance of the dark phoenix. He had been quite shocked and frankly hadn't believed Snape when he had asked him about it. But Snape wasn't one to joke. More than that, he had been absolutely flabbergasted when the bird had actually showed up out of nowhere in the Room.

Instantly, Harry had realised this was the very same chick he had been feeding for weeks and had gotten quite attached to. But as much as the phoenix's appearance was a surprise, it was also quite confusing. Phoenixes are creatures of the light and only bond with light wizards, like Dumbledore.

Yet this one was obviously a black phoenix, the opposite of Fawkes. Did that mean he was a dark wizard?

But right now, she – Harry didn't know how he knew it, but he did – was his only friend. Well, her and Sookie. He dared not even hint to the elf of such a notion, for he knew she would cling to him for dear life and not let go.

The next Monday morning, as Harry walked down the floors and corridors towards the Great Hall, he could see the veritable change in everyone's perception of him. Some people' fears were palpable. How he sensed it, he didn't know. Harry thought it was quite understandable, honestly.

If one thinks that someone in school is a budding dark lord, then fear would be an intelligent response. A poor Hufflepuff girl even squeaked and fell of her seat as he walked in to the Great Hall. He couldn't blame the surprised looks honestly.

Just as he wasn't used to coming into the Great Hall ever since Tonks had showed him the kitchens, the students weren't used to seeing their resident budding dark lord in the hall either. After all, it had been nearly two months since he had attended a meal here.

And throughout it all, none of the teachers did anything to alleviate the obvious abuse. They even encouraged it by looking the other way. The only ones who were concerned were Tessa and Andromeda, and perhaps Flitwick.

Harry ignored the looks he was getting not only from the students, but the teachers as well as he purposely walked towards the Slytherin table. The other houses made no effort to hide their not-so subtle whispers of 'Killer', 'Troll' and even a few 'Murderer'. But he paid no attention to the masses. Worrying about what they thought was an exercise in supreme futility and he refused to waste his mental prowess on them.

Instead, he turned his attention to the more worrisome girl in the Hall, a far more important concern to him. Grace Weitt. Hours of reflection on his actions had showed him that it had been incredibly stupid to insult her like that. She controlled Slytherin, more or less. As was evident by the number of people who raised their wands against him the other day.

And he was nowhere close to being prepared to take on Slytherin house. After all, he couldn't very well focus on his studies if he was busy countering their attacks left and right. And he agreed with Snape, after seeing the rest of the school's attitudes towards his house, he agreed that their apparent unity was incredibly important. He presumed that was why Tessa wanted to test him again. To see if he had learnt anything.

* * *

'Professor LeFay,' Tessa looked her left to see Lily Potter sitting beside her rather than her usual chair beside Sprout.

'Professor Potter,' she replied, wondering what this woman wanted. It couldn't be anything good, she decided. 'How may I assist you?'

Qetsiyah was well aware that other teachers, at least those sitting near them on the left on the headmaster, were listening in.

Where was Andromeda? She certainly didn't need her support but as most of the staff looked at her with revulsion, no doubt because of her family, it would be good to have the Black with her. But it looks like she was running late.

'Ummm….,' Qetsiyah frowned and resisted the urge to tell her how unbecoming it was, like she had told Lily's son. But then, the Professor wasn't her responsibility. 'Madam Pomfrey told me that Harry had run away from the hospital wing before being fully recovered.'

That wasn't a question, but Qetsiyah understood what the woman wanted. She inwardly smirked. Let's see where this goes. 'Yes.'

Lily slightly huffed. The woman was going to make her say it. Fine. 'Why did he spend the night in your living quarters after you found him passed out due to magical exhaustion.'

Bingo. Qetsiyah resisted the urge to laugh out loud as the woman said exactly what she had been expecting.

'Very subtle, are you not, Professor,' Qetsiyah smirked at the momentary dumbfounded look on the pretty redhead sitting beside her. 'How you produced a son as subtle as the night, makes me wonder, it does.'

'Chh… Potter and subtle! I highly doubt it,' Severus saved Lily from answering but his black beady eyes stayed unnervingly on her, no doubt scrutinising her for more information. 'Especially after the incident with Ms. Weitt.'

'Ah Severus. Surprise you, he may yet,' Qetsiyah smiled, sensing her student approaching the Great Hall. 'If already, he hasn't,' she motioned with her and the teachers followed her line of sight.

She chuckled slightly, shaking her head, at the reactions he was getting. A poor scared girl even fell of the seat.

'I agree with him. Harry's made his sentiments known quite well,' Lily added, begrudgingly, remembering the disaster in her classroom when she talked to him. 'I can't believe Harry did such a thing to the poor girl.'

'He did. Or rather, his wand did,' Severus replied, taking his eyes off of the Grecian beauty and fixed them onto Slytherin Potter who was now, against all odds, walking towards the Slytherin table.

'I heard Ms. Weitt rejected Ollivander's offer to match a new wand for her. Hello Tessa, Severus. Professor Potter,' Andromeda gracefully, slid into the empty seat on Qetsiyah's right.

'Why would she do that?' Lily asked, confused.

'The only wandmaker in the world, Ollivander is not,' Qetsiyah smiled at the still, surprisingly naïve muggleborn.

'Then what is she using now?' Lily was still looking from said girl to her approaching son. 'Ollivander is the best wandmaker around.'

'I believe one of her family wands,' Andromeda answered, buttering her toast. 'And hardly, he's only more talked about because he's endorsed heavily and licensed by the Ministry. And because he complies with their wand standardisation laws. Unlike his father.'

'What's wrong with wand standardisation?' the muggleborn Professor asked, looking from one beauty to the other.

Both of them rolled their eyes and Andromeda replied, 'Nothing,' sarcasm evident in her tone as Qetsiyah successfully disguised her laugh as a cough.

'Anyway…,' Madam Pomfrey cut in, seeing the budding argument before it could begin. She had seen many of them during her time. 'Why was it that he was taken to your living quarters, and not the hospital wing.'

Qetsiyah was getting really annoyed by this incessant interrogation and really wanted to focus on how her student deals with the current problem. There was only one way to stop the school's matron nurse from interrogating her. 'Betrayed his confidence, you did. Trust you anymore, he does not.'

Heads snapped to the Qetsiyah but she ignored them, even as Andromeda smirked at her friend's balls. Poppy was horrified, and more than a little insulted, reddened with anger. Never once had she been accused of betraying a patient's trust. She had always prided herself to the utmost proper conduct befitting a healer and yet this upstart woman who hadn't been at the school for two weeks presumed to insult her work ethics in front of her peers! Oh, she will pay!

But she could retaliate, several teachers and students gasped and she looked for the source of it. Of course. Slytherin Potter! Of course.

'So, Severus. Looking forward to the match?' asked Andromeda, enjoying the morning's entertainment. Very rarely was she given such an enjoyment as to watch drama unfold. It seemed accepting Harry's offer was a boon in more ways than one.

* * *

Grace Weitt had woken up three days ago, with a headache that seemed like it was going to kill her, burns on her chest and fingers of her wand hand. It had taken a while for her to get her head straight but alas, all for naught. For soon, she was informed by Vinda Rosier of the disastrous failure of her hastily hatched plan and that prompted the return of her hazy memory.

She remembered being completely shocked, figuratively and literally when Potter's wand most unexpectedly retaliated with a burst of lightning. She remembered the agony when lightning coursed through her body, even if it didn't last very long.

She remembered as if she would burn up from the inside out. She remembered laying there on the floor of the common room, twitching and spasming as if held under the cruciatus. Not that she had experienced that, thank Merlin.

And all that served to make her angrier. Yes, she could admit now that she had been caught off guard by the underhanded tactic of Potter's but she was also very aware that she was the better duellist among them. One of the best in Slytherin, as a matter of fact. Whilst Potter, even if his wand worked, was barely two months into his first year.

She already had a mode of revenge hatching in her plan. Grace could admit that his retaliation in that moment was just. Yes, she had attacked him, albeit stupidly and that was her mistake. She had been stupid to actually believe her idiot mentee when she had told her that Potter was a near squib.

How idiotic could the girl be? She had honestly expected better from the daughter of Evelyn and Daniel Greengrass. Moreover, she knew it was her own fault for believing a stupid first year without doing much of her own research.

What little she had done showed that Daphne had been right and she had been content with the girl's plan of disgracing the boy. But now, having shot lightning at her and allegedly having killed a troll, it was clear to her that the boy was no squib.

The rest of the school may be sheep and believe whatever the Potters and headmaster fed them, but she was a Slytherin. It was obvious seeing Alexander, Weasel and Granger walk in together in the Great Hall that something had happened and those three were involved. And yet, Snape had told them that so was their Potter and he had ended up in the hospital wing when the troll had fallen on top of him.

And so, shortly after waking up Grace had gone to the hospital wing to see the truth of the matter, and lo and behold. Who should see there, but the mudblood Granger? She had quickly hidden herself and observed. The mudblood, had talked to the unconscious form of her housemate. Perhaps she had been afraid or the mudblood didn't want to talk to a Slytherin. And after becoming friends the Boy-Who-Lived and Weasel, that was expected.

But she had listened to what the girl had said. After thanking him for saving her, she in her self-righteousness had proceeded to tell him why he shouldn't have unnecessarily killed the troll and how he should have spared its life.

That alone made her doubt the truth of the claims of the Potters that it was actually Alexander who had been very close to defeating the troll and Hadrian had somehow, to gain some attention, jumped on the troll and his wand reacted, killing it.

That just didn't make sense to her. And unlike the rest of the school, she hadn't believed it. Regardless of whether deliberately killed the troll or not, it was obvious that the boy was not a squib. If he was, his wand, no matter how pre-emptive could not have drawn magic from him on either occasions? But it had and so she was forced to change her viewpoint.

However, that also brought up the fact of her embarrassment at his hands. And that, she wasn't going to let go. Retaliating was fine but he had destroyed her precious wand. And that, she couldn't forgive so easily. The core was one of the rarest in the world, the claw of a Griffin-Hippogriff hybrid.

And now, the boy who had humiliated her so was walking over now, no doubt to brag about his victory, like any Slytherin would do. No doubt, he will hint at something at a future favour which he would demand so he not insult her in front of the Great Hall, like any Slytherin would do and take advantage of her momentary weak position.

He was going to take advantage and there was nothing she could do. They were in public after all and had an image to maintain. Which is why, undoubtedly the insufferable boy chose to show his face here when he hasn't come to meals for two months. Her anger and her friends, well aware of her temperament edged away, expecting a coming storm and honestly, she couldn't blame them.

And so, she made a mental list of how she should respond to this arrogant brat. One, she doesn't accept anything he says and turn him away, subtly making it clear that he is unwelcome at the table anymore. Two, accept and move on. Three, accept but do not move on.

The third seemed like a good option, but still she was aware of how Slytherin was decidedly lacking in unity, within the common room of course. And they couldn't afford a show of division right now. Especially with the match soon. She just hoped the brat knew this.

Still, she settled on the third option as he drew nearer, deciding that she would still challenge him to a duel for the breaking of her wand. Practically the whole school was aware of her dilemma since McGonagall had told her that Ollivander was at the school, in public and she would do well to seek a replacement for her broken wand.

From then, it had only taken a few gossiping Slytherins and the whole thing had spiralled out of control before she could even attempt to contain it. And all through it, the boy slept. Fucking moron.

And all those gossiping idiots, Slytherins and otherwise, as well as the teachers, had their eyes fixed on them as Potter stopped in front of her.

She was rendered completely shocked when instead of gloating like any decent Slytherin, the boy bowed, 'Ms. Weitt. I offer my deepest and sincerest apologies for the most unfortunate and unintended destruction of your wand, during our little misunderstanding.'

Harry ignored the scoffs and snorts that accompanied his genuine regret. 'I cannot say I have experienced the loss of a wand, as I was never particularly attached to mine. Yet, I know yours was special. One of the very few remaining Gerbold Ollivander's creation, I presume?'

Grace narrowed her eyes. Despite his flowery speech, he was essentially saying he was sorry. His eyes looked truthful but she didn't know if she could trust him. 'Yes,' she said, still somewhat suspicious of him. 'Norwegian Oak and Griffin hybrid claw.'

Clearly his motives had a double meaning but what could it be? Clearly, he had contacted Ollivander who had told him how special her wand was but why? She could see that she wasn't the only one who was confused about this.

Harry nodded, already knowing this information. As he put his hands inside his robes, the Slytherins around Grace instantly tensed, several putting their hands on their wands. A subtle shake of her head told them to stay their hand, but they still remained cautious.

That, in itself, assured him that this was the right course of action. 'Quite rare. As such, I hope this gift would make amends and settle our differences, for the good of the house.'

Ah. So that is why he was doing it in public, rather than the common room. Grace had to admit, she was a little impressed.

He withdrew a sleek, long black box, tied with a purple ribbon and handed it to her.

Before she could open it however, they were interrupted by Professor McGonagall who strode over, 'Before you do that Ms. Weitt, I will need to examine it to see if its not hexed or cursed.'

'What?' she asked, not being able to understand the Transfiguration Professor. 'It's not, Professor.' She was tempted to tell the old hag to keep out of Slytherin business but that would have been highly unsubtle and cost them a lot of points.

Several people snickered, some even whispering that Potter couldn't curse anything as he was a squib. What a bunch of morons. He had killed a troll, for Merlin's sake. They just couldn't make up their minds. Either believe he is a budding dark lord or believe he's a squib.

'Regardless, I will have to. As Deputy Headmistress,' McGonagall seemed adamant and had extended her hand.

Several Gryffindors and even Hufflepuffs beside them looked absolutely gleeful at the prospect. Did they want to see her cursed or did they want to see Potter being caught trying to hex her?

'I would say that it was also your duty to see who had taken my wand but what do I know,' Harry looked at the dumbfounded look on her face and smiled. Then that dumfounded look turned to confusion.

'I don't know what you mean, Mr. Potter. We placed your wand beside your table in the infirmary,' she replied, narrowing her eyes at the accusing ones of the son of her favourite students.

With a startle, she realised what it was that she felt wrong with the picture he presented. His eyes. They weren't the same anymore. What in the world? Was it a glamour? She would have to check later.

'Very responsible,' Potter said, his tone heavy with sarcasm which McGonagall ignored, waving her wand at the box and seemingly finding nothing harmful.

Grace raised an eyebrow. She hadn't expected this but then, she hadn't expected a lot of things when it came to this boy. She could safely say now, that he was an enigma. And that, in addition to making him dangerous, also made him quite interesting.

'Professor, I daresay Potter is a Slytherin and he wouldn't do something like this,' she stated the obvious. It had become very clear to her in the past three days when she examined the boy's actions and responses, to taunting, to schemes and jinxes, that he was indeed a Slytherin.

And weirdly, it impressed her as much as it angered her.

'What do you mean, Ms. Weitt?' the Professor handed the box over to her, clearly not wanting to do it as she still eyed the box suspiciously.

'I mean Professor that if he wanted to curse me, he wouldn't do it in front of so many witnesses,' she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Several people looked quite perturbed by casual acceptance of the possibility of being cursed in her house, as long as it was well hidden. She promptly ignored them. 'It would have been rather….'

'Gryffindorish,' Potter added, with a smirk, much to the snickering of her fellow housemates, even as several Gryffindors coloured mightily.

'Mr. Potter! Ten points from Slytherin for insulting another house!' Professor McGonagall seemed to want to melt him with her glare but Harry only smiled, ignoring the rest of the house bristling and glaring at the deputy headmistress.

'Naturally. But tell me, Professor, since when did hinting the traits of a house merit as an insult, hmm?'

McGonagall fumed even more and was about to reply when Harry turned away from her, focusing on Grace again, not paying any attention to the growing ire of the Scottish woman.

Others were also quite curious as to what was inside the box, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't. 'There isn't much that can make amends for wand destruction,' Grace said, untying the ribbon.

'I know,' he replied, nodding.

Several people gasped as she opened the box and withdrew what was inside. She herself was unable to believe that he had actually given it to her. Grace sat there, her mouth agape with a very unlady-like manner, until she caught herself of course.

Several people, including some nosy Hufflepuffs and even some Gryffindors raised their necks and edged away from their seats in order to see the contents of the box.

McGonagall looked at the scene, lips pursed into a thin line. She whirled on the spot, knowing there wasn't anything she could do to stop it and marched back to her spot on the high table. None of this was going according to their plans. The headmaster would want to know. Immediately.

Grace looked at the black and purple phoenix feather and some ash in the box and promptly closed the lid, quite aware of the jealousy of several Slytherins and not wanting to damage such a gift in anyway.

She forgot her plans for dominating him and revenge. 'Sit down, Potter,' she motioned to her right and another sixth year edged away to make space for him.

Harry, momentarily shocked at her response, only delayed it for a second and took the offered space, making sure he didn't seem too eager.

He heard a collection of increased whispers and gasps from the other three houses but he couldn't care less.

'Potter, you know my friend Vinda Rosier. This is Lucinda Wilkes and Gemma Farley,' she motioned to the two familiar faces in front of them. Both of them were ready to curse him when he had shot Grace with the lightning.

'A pleasure, Ms. Wilkes, Ms. Farley,' Harry replied, giving a slight bow of his head, seeing as he was sitting down.

'So, Potter…. A phoenix, huh?' said Grace, smirking as Harry instantly coughed on his orange juice. Yes, this was much better.


	5. The Nature of Magic

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE SPELL: VITTO BROSHE ANTA CORTIS SYRUM.**

* * *

Harry Potter was freaking out. He had barely managed to keep his cool when McGonagall, who he had been sure had his wand, told him otherwise. And McGonagall was one of the ones who wear their hearts on their sleeves. Much like other Gryffindors, the woman didn't have an ounce of subtlety, as evidenced by the fact that she tried to take away Harry's gift to Grace.

Why? He had no idea. But he was sure it was some scheme on the part of either the Potters or the headmaster. What were they scheming? Did he really want to know? Did he really want to waste his time worrying about that? No. He didn't.

He had much bigger problems to worry about, than what the insufferable Head of Gryffindor was planning. He was missing his wand, for fuck's sake! He hadn't had it for more two weeks and already he had lost it! Shame on him.

And so, after the breakfast, Harry escaped the Great Hall as soon as possible. He had caught Tessa's eyes on him and she had given a subtle nod, and raise of her glass. Filled with elation and glee, Harry couldn't wait to get out of the hall and start his education seriously.

But he would need his wand! All problems came back to that.

'Harry, where are you going?' he looked back to see Tracey walking towards him with Blaise and Daphne. 'We've got History of Magic.'

Cursing his luck, he schooled his expression and turned towards them. He really didn't want to talk to any of them. Should he go with them to Binn's class and then sneak out and or make it obvious that he wasn't going to attend?

'Ms. Davis, Zabini, Ms. Greengrass,' he greeted them with a nod of his head, hoping that they wouldn't hold him back much.

Tracey's eyes narrowed and even Daphne frowned, 'Harry… what are you…'

But he wasn't in the mood neither did he have the time for her simpering. 'I'm sorry but I've got an appointment, excuse me.'

Tracey looked at her friends in apparent confusion even as Harry turned away and started walking in the complete opposite direction, 'Harry… wait…,'

Harry paid no mind to any of them, and ignored the other students looking from him to the three standing behind him, as he made his way to the Entrance Hall and out the doors, eyeing the nearby hill.

Half an hour of brisk walking and climbing the rocky hill nearby, he came up on the clearing at the top which Tessa had told him about. On the way, Harry had fallen many times on the jagged rocks and protrusions, cursing each time he bled and scraped his skin.

Why in the world had she asked him to come here of all places. Somewhere near the top, he stood outside what looked like an opening of a cave, carved into the side of the hill, about half as tall as the Great Hall.

The cavernous inside was made purely of irregular, jagged black rocks, unlike anything he had ever seen. Wary of beasts that might attack him, mountain lions and shadowcats and whatnot, Harry made his way inside, and soon the passageway led into a hall like cave.

The feeling was ominous. Freeing and constricting, giving him courage and making him fear, increasing his heart beat and calming it down. He had never felt anything so contradictory in his life. All at the same time.

Now he was even more wary of this strange place. And even more so of Tessa. He could safely say, that he didn't trust her. Yes, he respected her power and command of magic but that wasn't nearly the same as trust.

True, he didn't really trust anyone but that was beside the point. What if she lured him here to murder him without a leaving a trace? What if she wanted to use him in some sort of sadistic ritual?

He shook his head, getting the stupid notions out of his head. If she wanted to kill him, she would have done so already. There wasn't anything stopping. He didn't have a wand, he thought with venom. Oh, how he would enjoy making the thief pay.

He was shaken out of his musings of revenge by a sound of a drop of water, falling into what sounded like a puddle. Looking around, he spotted it eventually. It was coming from the ceiling. From within the damp and wet black rocks of the cave ceiling, a water droplet fell, every few seconds. Harry followed its descent and it fell into what looked like a circle carved out from a raised slab of rock.

The inside of it was painted with a five-pointed star inside a circle. Each point of the star, ended at a what looked like a symbol, maybe ancient Greek or something. But that was not the distinguishing part of it.

Half of the star was white and half black. On the black side, was a white orb, which shone. The Sun, he realised. And somewhat expectedly, on the white side was a crescent shaped moon. The symbols, however, had a slight green hue to them.

'Come,' he looked up to see Tessa in the opening on the wall, on the opposite of him.

Harry followed without question, but still not letting his guard down. He breathed a gasp of surprise as he stepped out into the opening. The view was breath-taking, in a word. Overlooking the entirety of Hogwarts, the Black Lake and the even a partially hidden view of the village Hogsmeade.

Harry couldn't comprehend that they were so far above the ground. He certainly hadn't climbed that far. 'Professor, how is this possible?' he looked back at the woman in confusion.

'Magic, Harry,' she smiled. 'Are you alright? You look agitated. Are of you afraid of heights?', she asked amusedly.

Harry shook his head. He was agitated but the reason was completely different. 'Tessa, I've lost my wand! Again!'

'Ah,' she replied, shaking her head in dismay. 'Oh dear. How?'

'I don't know!' Harry tensed, squashing the burgeoning anger in him. He finally had a good wand and someone had stolen it. 'I didn't have it on me when I woke up in the hospital wing. And McGonagall….'

'Professor McGonagall…' she corrected him with a raised eye.

Sighing, he continued, 'Yes. Professor Snape told me she had it but she didn't. What am I supposed to do? I don't even have a clue as to where it could be. Should I try to get a new one.'

She shook her head, but not in disappointment, but in amusement.

She had been treating him like he should already know what was good for him and what was bad, they he shouldn't be feeling self-pity and wasting his time in self-loathing, that he should already know that not run away from his problems instead of facing them.

And when he has asked her to be his mentor and her Master had told her to teach him, she had vehemently refused. He was naïve and stupid, and much too reckless, quick to anger and untrusting. All those characteristics were too ingrained into him, not to mention he had limited magic to begin with. And above all, he was too old.

Yes, the magic part was somewhat taken care of evidenced by the fact he was able to cast a reductor curse strong enough to kill a troll. But the other problems were still there. And the boy still practised self-deceit and preferred to think that his problems didn't exist.

Having already decided not to take him on as a student, she had given him another test, knowing he likely wouldn't be able to get a handle on his temper enough to solve his situation with Ms. Weitt in a responsible manner.

But she stood corrected. She had accused Severus of not looking hard enough at the boy but she realised she was guilty of the same thing. He had impressed even her, when quite unexpectedly, he had swallowed his pride, and not only apologised to the girl but also gave her a gift.

He may have schooled his expression and tried to seem not eager when he had sat down next to the older girl, but she had seen the light in her eyes. It made her realise, that despite all that self-deception, and pride, there was a little boy who had just been glad at being accepted at his house's tables.

She would have to approach this differently than her Master did with her. She couldn't take the hard-line approach she had planned. He was much more likely to distance himself if she did that and for the student to progress, trust is a must between him and the teacher. And he was not going to trust her if she constantly pointed out his failures and weaknesses.

'What?' he asked, confused at why she was smiling when the problem was so severe. He didn't have a bloody wand and she found this amusing. Sadistic bitch!

'You're thinking like a muggle, Harry!' she smirked, 'Think like a wizard.'

'What?' he almost snarled. He resented being called a muggle. She accused him of doing what Alexander and Weasel were doing with the troll. 'What do you mean, Tessa?'

'Think of a magical solution to your problem,' she replied, walking even further out, towards the edge of the hill. He was a smart kid but he needed some help in problem solving. Given his previous responses to unexpected situations and problems, in addition to his flinching and uneasiness and the proximity of others, she had gathered that he had likely been abused at his muggle relatives house.

And as much as the thought angered her, there wasn't anything she could do about it, yet. If she asked him, he would just clam up and distance himself, probably in a subconscious attempt to protect himself. This was a mess!

Harry narrowed his eyes, thinking of the different magical ways he could go about it. One was obvious. Get a feather from Jean, his phoenix and given that he already had quite a close bond with her, the wand will probably work for him.

The second was go to Mia and ask her to match with a different wand but Tessa had already rejected that one. The third was to try and find his wand. How would he go about doing it?

He could direct his informant to gather others and venture out into the hallways and hope to pick up some useful intel. But that is no guarantee that he would find his. It might still be useful for intel though.

Magic, think Potter, think! Was there a way to…? No. Surely it would require a wand.

She knew he had it the moment his eyes lit up, 'Is there a way to track my wand, given that I have some connection with it, although not a very strong one?'

She smiled, glad that he was now at least using his head. This was why she was a firm believer that students cannot be taught, only guided. And why she had let him come to his own conclusions.

'Good, Harry, good,' she nodded, noting the smile on his face at the encouragement. Yes, she was sure this way was better. 'Yes, there is a spell to track belongings. It's a family of spells called 'locator spells or more commonly known as tracking spells.'

His smile faltered for a moment, 'That would require a wand,' he said morosely, making a mental note to find some information on locator spells in the room.

'Not necessarily, Harry,' Tessa replied, 'Have you seen my wand, up till now?'

'No,' Harry replied, his face scrunched up in confusion, 'Are you saying there's a way to do this without using a wand?'

She had known that like all the rest of this magically stagnant country, he would be entirely too dependent on his wand, but she hadn't known, until she came here, that they would be entirely lost without their wands.

That was a weakness she would neither foster not tolerate in her student. She realised she had to start his education from the basics, 'What is magic, Harry,' she asked. 'Without using the words intent or will.'

Harry frowned in confusion, having been ready to give the answer he gave to his mother, until she added the condition. What was magic? He pursed his lips in agitation. He really didn't like not knowing things. How could such a simple question be so hard.

Eventually he came up with an answer, and even he knew it was a very basic one, 'Magic is a power people have that lets them,' he tried to think of some answers of two extreme ends, 'I dunno, control people and levitate things.'

She nodded, seeming a little impressed. 'Impressive,' Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back. 'Every word in that sentence was wrong.'

Okay… maybe not. He pursed his lips in indignation. He really wasn't used to her particular brand of sass.

'Sit on this rock,' she pointed to the flattish rock beside her, near the edge of the hill.

'Okay…,' he hesitated a little, knowing that if he actually fell from this height, there was nothing he could do to stop becoming fleshy paste at the bottom. But he sat down nonetheless.

'Magic is not a power people have,' said Tessa. Sighing, deciding how best to put the basis of magic into his tiny, incomprehensible brain. 'Magic… blooms only in rare souls, it is true. It is our ally. And a powerful ally at that.'

He watched as Tessa waved her hand around, 'Life creates it. Makes it grow. And it creates life. It's energy that surrounds us… and binds us. Luminous beings we are, not this crude flesh,' she poked his shoulders.

Harry nodded, understanding somewhat. 'Okay, but what is it?', he was still a little confused about the exact definition of it.

Tessa sighed, deciding that action might teach him better than theory and words, 'Close your eyes.'

He complied.

'Now, breathe…. And reach out.'

Harry took one long breathe, with his eyes closed, he stretched out his hand, despite not knowing how he would lift things without seeing them.

Tessa rolled her eyes in exasperation at the boy's stupidity. One minute he could be a genius, then the other he would be doing an impression of his stupid brother.

Harry gasped, his outstretched hand felt a tingling, a tickling. Oh Merlin! 'Aaah! I feel something!' he said excitedly. It was getting very apparent. Does that what breathing and focusing does?

'You feel it?' she asked, sounding surprised.

'Yes, I feel it!'

'That's magic!' Tessa told him.

'Really?!' he asked, surprised. He had never thought he could feel magic so physically.

'Yes! It's really strong with you,' he could hear the impressed tone in her voice.

'Oh! I've never felt anything like it…. Owwww!' Harry flinched his hand, rubbing his hand and glared at the woman who was staring at him like he was the most stupid person in the world, holding a long, green leaf.

Oh… 'You meant… reach out… like…,' he tapped his heart, not knowing how else to explain it.

'You think?!' she asked, sarcasm heavy in her tone. Okay maybe this time he had actually been stupid.

'I'll try again!' he told her and how closed his eyes again.

Harry felt her smooth, feminine hand take his recently calloused one and place in on the rock at his side. He could feel the small pebbles under his palm.

'Breathe, Harry. Just breathe,' she let go off his hand. 'Reach out with your feelings. You must feel the magic around you, in you, between you, me, the trees and the grass… everywhere… even between yourself and the rock.'

Harry nodded, and doing what she said, he breathed out deeply and then in, just as deep. Not knowing what else to do, he focused on his breath, visualising the breath as a ball rising from his lungs, into his trachea and then throat, his nose and outwards and back in, going even further than his lungs.

Not much time had passed when he felt himself calming down, his breath evening out and himself… at peace.

Harry reached out with his senses, not knowing what she meant by feelings. Maybe he would feel the magic that way.

Envisioning his breath like it was magic, he breathed it out, focusing as it spread out from his nose and into his surroundings as far as he could manage to feel it… extend.

'What do you feel?' she whispered. He paid no attention to her breath near his face.

Air. Stone. Clouds. Wind. Water. Castle. Grass.

'The island,' he replied. He felt himself growing in the soil, seeking nourishment, and extending below. Grass and flowers on the hill. The chirping of birds. 'Life.'

He felt the plants seeking underground, and felt himself reaching even further below. Skeletons of the dead. 'Death, decay.' Providing nourishment to more grass and flowers. 'Feeding new life.' He felt himself rise with the flowers, felt himself as the flower – preening and growing with the sun's rays – 'Warmth.'

He felt himself float with the wind away from the hill towards the water. 'Cold,' he felt himself getting colder.

He felt the young owl chick sitting in its nest with its mother curled around it. He felt happy at the safety of the family. 'Peace.'

Reaching out further, he felt himself slithering on the ground, silently, deathly, smelling his prey nearby, and like an assassin, he struck, sinking his fangs into a rabbit. 'Violence,' he whispered.

'And between it all?' she asked, from somewhere behind him. He guessed, only a few inches away.

'Balance… energy… magic,' he whispered back.

'And inside you?'

He retracted his senses, stretching the same feeling, but this time only inwards. He felt the growth of the grass and the flowers in his lungs, the warmth of the sun in his face, the cold of the water in his hands, the life of the owl chick in his heart, the slithering of the snake in his chest and the death of the rabbit in the stomach and he felt the power of the snake's strike in his blood.

'Unbelievable. The same magic… inside me.'

'And that is the lesson… magic doesn't belong to us… we are only one of many forms of magic,' she told him.

'There's something else,' Harry said, feeling himself going further and further away from the hill, the castle and into the forest…. 'In the forest, a place… a dark place.' He felt himself going further, his senses being slowly overcome by fear… He was afraid. Why was he feeling hateful?

'Balance,' she said from behind him. 'Powerful light, powerful darkness.'

He felt the fallen trees, the whimpering of a horse… maybe… the growling of a creature… a dark one, full of hatred and anger, and malice… and blood lust…. The spilling of blood…. He felt the creature… a wraith maybe… 'It's calling me!' Harry said, afraid. His breathing increased, terrified. Harry tried to get away from it. But he was being pulled towards the creature. Towards death. A fleeing image of a white horse, leaking blood… silver blood.

Tessa looked on alarmed. What in the world was going on? Why was her student sounding terrified? What was calling him? The darkness?

'It's cold…,' he whimpered.

A crack of stone made her look at the rock he was sitting on. There, just where his hand was placed, a dark, long crack in the rock, ever increasing. The rock shuddered, the pebbles started floating upwards.

'Resist it, Harry!'

Rocks began to break from the rocky hill behind her, falling and crashing… 'Resist it!' she yelled.

Harry could hear her yelling for him but the darkness was so alluring…. Only a little further… the red eyes of the wraith glowed, silver liquid dripping down its hooded face….

The void in Harry thrashed wildly, its tendrils lengthening and attacking the fortified wall of its prison.

Harry was not going to let it…. 'AAGGHH!' with a yell, and with all his might and all his will, he pulled himself away from the wraith who had just sensed something as well.

With a crash, breathing heavy, Harry fell to the ground, looking at a terrified but visibly relieved Tessa. What was not afraid to admit, that he had been scared… terrified actually.

'What was it, Harry? What did you see?' she asked, coming closer to him, alarmed.

'I… I… don't know, Tessa,' Harry shook his head, unable to put the terrifying feeling into his words. 'I don't know what it was… But it was so dark, like a wraith… full of hate, anger and rage, bloodlust… It had red eyes, I think… it killed a horse, silver blood… no… Not a horse. A unicorn…'

He looked up to see her shocked and terrified face, dark eyes scrunched up in thought… 'In the forest, I presume?' she asked.

'Yes,' he nodded. There was a stinging sensation on his forehead, a throbbing pain. 'Uggh,' he put his hand on his forehead. The only time he felt like it was in Quirrell's class.

Tessa drew nearer to him, moving his hand away from the forehead and staring intently at his scar… With a long and a well-manicured finger, she brushed away the raven hair covering his scar. Only when she removed, his eyes widened as he saw her fingertip covered in blood.

What in the world. His scar was bleeding! That had certainly never happened before.

He might have imagined but he could see a growing pain in her eyes. 'You need to relax Harry. I don't know what you saw, but I will investigate it. Here, drink,' she handed him a cup of water.

Only then he realised how very thirsty he was. His throat was aching with the parchedness. After a few minutes, he had calmed down enough to reflect back on the horrifying experience. He really didn't want to feel like that every time he attempted this.

But one good came out of it. Harry was no aware that there was no one word definition to magic. That it was a feeling. Personal and powerful. Power and energy, life and death, destruction and peace. It was balance, or close to balance as anything could be.

'Good,' she nodded, pointing at the large break on the rock he was sitting on, the rocks and pebbles not where he remembered them to be. Something of them were bent grotesquely out of shape. A few were even partly ground into dust. 'You passed your first lesson.'

* * *

Tracey Davis was nervous… and she didn't know why. She just had a feeling that something was about to go wrong… that something bad was going to happen. She was a half-blood, with a half-blood mother and a pureblood father. But she, like her older brother were both raised as purebloods, being taught etiquette, elocution, tradition and customs ever since they could walk and talk.

Granted she didn't have many of the expensive tutors that her friend Daphne and others like Pansy had growing up, but she was still well off compared to many others. Neither was she the walking, talking encyclopaedia of pureblood customs that Draco was but even she followed their basics customs.

As such, she knew the moment that Hadrian Potter – who had introduced himself as Evans – had bumped into Daphne at the platform, that it was a serious breach of customs, further compounded when he had bowed and kissed her hand and not paid much, if any attention to Daphne, after insulting her.

At the time, she had waved it off as just a muggleborn trying to woo her, and not knowing any of their customs since he had pretty much pissed off Daphne, who if she was being honest, was of a greater consequence than herself. And to the muggleborn, there was no comparison.

Daphne was a pureblood heiress, a close to perfect one that she strived to be and had taken complete and utter offense, even if Tracey found the situation a little funny. Daphne never had much control over her anger, even if she hid it and she had started their little spat when the poor boy was apologising.

And then later, Daphne was convinced that her mother had set her up to make her see that she wasn't infallible and make it a point that Daphne was being watched in school. Her friend, at first, was convinced that this new muggleborn had somehow struck a deal with her mother and was spying on her.

But then, all those suspicions came crashing down when he was revealed to the school, and consequently the wizarding world by extension, as Hadrian Potter, the brother to the boy-who-lived. That had compounded her friends anger even more. Daphne was quite smart, very smart actually. Tracey suspected that she was as smart as the mudblood Granger, she just didn't flaunt it. Seeing as she was a Slytherin, that would be incredibly stupid to do so.

And never had anyone fooled Daphne so thoroughly. Her friend might not admit it, but Tracey suspected that she was a little jealous that the boy had not only pulled of the act of a clueless muggleborn effortlessly but also succeeded in getting his brother into Slytherin, all in one go.

And knowing what she knew about the Greengrass' future plans or potential plans, at least in regards to Daphne, she was certain that Daphne felt Hadrian was an obstacle in her path. The boy had seemingly taken a deep interest and great liking to her cold friend, going as far as to lovingly call her that ridiculously cute nickname of Daffodil, to insisting on escorting her to breakfast and constantly giving her flowers.

Tracey found it charming. She was a little jealous honestly, but her friend found it annoying, calling him a menace. She could also see why. But it was only harmless flirting. And it wasn't like Harry was a bad person. He was quite funny, when he wanted to be and he wasn't sulking. And he had the makings of a good friend, if a bit naïve Slytherin.

After two months of knowing him, and Daphne pulling Tracey away from him every time in classes or breakfast or in the common room, Tracey had taken quite a liking to him.

Granted, he wasn't as well versed in pureblood customs as her, or even close to Malfoy and Daphne, she still related to him more than anyone else in the house, in a way. They were both half-bloods and both were scorned for their inferior blood, him more than her but still and both were in a house filled with elitists who respect only heritage and power.

Harry was quite smart, as evidenced by his knowledge and answers in class during the first month or so. But it soon turned out that he was a weak, wizard. Perhaps only being a little better than the eternal oaf Longbottom. Such bad luck, being in Slytherin. Hell, even Millicent was better than him. And his luck turned even worse, when courtesy of her friend, the whole school was informed of his near squib status.

She had been really mad at friend for such a cruel move. Yes, she was annoyed by Harry's attempts at flirtation but that didn't mean that she should have done something so horrible. On more than one occasions, Tracey had seen the hurt in Harry's eyes when people called him a squib, a disgrace to wizards and even worse, and even worse, Filch Jr.

Many times, she had wanted to go to him, and talk for more than a few minutes. Every time she would attempt it, Daphne would eventually let her talk for a couple of minutes at the most and then proceed to drag her away. Honestly, if Tracey didn't know any better, she would think that the Greengrass heiress was jealous.

But she knew that Daphne was only doing this for her own good. Already, she had received not so subtle threats from the older Slytherins for her rightly perceived friendliness towards Harry. So yes, being her in Slytherin, a half-blood daughter of a pureblood house; best friend to another pureblood heiress and friends with the son of a serial assassin, was hard.

But when Harry, who was normally cold towards others, especially Gryffindors including his stupid and stupider – Alexander and Weasel – was so affectionate and caring towards a tiny, helpless and injured bird chick, she had realised that Harry was someone she was going to be friends with. To hell with that Daphne and her house said.

She knew that if she told Daphne her reason and compare him to someone like Malfoy – who would've no doubt throw or kill the bird chick – her friend would tell her to go and see a mind healer. Or she might even drag Tracey to one.

Just as she had decided that and had planned to make a show of sitting and chatting with him, and make the debut of their friendship during the Halloween feast – what better time or place – everything went to shit. She wasn't one for cursing, but that's what the situation was. Shit.

She had been glad when the deviously gorgeous older girl, Grace had told Harry that he was at welcome to the feast, which meant that by extension he was welcome at all feasts, the boy just had to go and get her mad.

Granted, what he said was technically true but if he was expecting fairness, he should have gone to Hufflepuff. Even Gryffindors aren't that fair. Just look how they treat Granger. And then, things had taken a disastrous turn within seconds. Why the older, cunning girl had decided to jinx him, she couldn't say. Even so, just when she had cast the incendio, Tracey was moving forward to help Harry, knowing that he couldn't do much magic, he had retaliated with a jinx nothing like she had ever seen before.

Leaving all of them figuratively, and Grace quite literally shocked on the floor. Not to mention the phoenix that had just appeared out of nowhere to defend him. She had thought that everything had calmed down when the troll incident happened, and she had told Daphne her choice, but then he had woken up and their conversation turned from civil to disastrous in a matter of minutes.

No, what she was nervous now was how he would react when he inevitably saw them again. She had been a little perturbed by the slightly cold greeting this morning but perhaps he just had a little on his mind.

Waking up to most of the school looking at him as if he was about to go on a killing spree couldn't have been easy on him. Yes, that had to be it.

And soon, before she knew it, they were packing their books because Charms class was over. Where in the world was Harry?

He had missed the morning's History of Magic with Binns and now Charms with his mother. Where could he be? Didn't he know how mad Snape was going to be when he learnt of him skipping two classes at once?

Daphne had shrugged it off but Blaise was somewhat concerned, in that sarcastic, uncaring sort of way of his. Truth be told, she was feeling more nervous that her ominous feelings seemed to be centred around the Slytherin Potter. And for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.

'Would you stop fidgeting, Trace?' Daphne rolled her eyes, as they got off their seats. She saw Blaise looking around, as he walked out with Theo. Maybe he was looking for Harry as well.

'I'm not fidgeting,' Tracey replied to her friend. 'I'm just a little worried…'

'Ms. Davis,' Tracey turned back to see the Professor addressing her. It was eerily similar to the way Harry had called her that this morning. That was another thing troubling her. But for now, she pushed it out of her mind. 'Ms. Greengrass.'

'Yes, Professor?' Tracey answered for the both of them, wondering what she wanted. She could feel Daphne glaring at her from behind her. If her distractedness and Daphne continuously telling her to concentrate gets them in detention, her friend would definitely hex her.

'I understand that you are Harry's fr… acquaintances,' the Professor said, eyeing the two rather cute young girls her son liked to hang around with.

Tracey scowled, not wanting to admit that she hated being called Harry's acquaintance. She was his friend, dammit. 'Friends, Professor.' She heard Daphne cough from behind her and was sure she would pay for this later.

Daphne merely nodded her response, still eyeing the woman somewhat suspiciously. Now, if she had wanted to talk to her about Alexander, that would have been a different matter altogether.

'Oh really. Good,' Lily nodded and for the first time, she was actually glad that her son was friends with these two and not the other unsavoury characters that filled Slytherin house. They're families were both neutral in the last wars and neither had any anti-muggleborn sentiment from what she knew.

If they did, Evelyn Greengrass certainly wouldn't have hinted at possible negotiations when they last met. 'I was wondering if you knew where he was. And why he hasn't attended either my own lesson or History of Magic this morning?'

Tracey frowned slightly. How did this woman know Harry had missed History of Magic. 'No, Professor. Perhaps the hospital wing. I don't think he was feeling well this morning.'

'Oh right,' Lily nodded, deciding to keep an eye on this girl in the future. She was clearly lying. 'Do you, Ms. Greengrass?'

'I do not,' she answered, a little curtly for her liking but she let it slide.

'May I ask what this is about?' Daphne asked, seeing Tracey's head whipped around to her, but ignored her for now. This couldn't possibly just be about skipped classes. If it was, she would've just informed their head of house about Evans' punishment.

'Oh nothing, nothing,' Lily waved off her concern. If that is what it was, but then changed her mind and decided that the girls could help her. Her husband's infernal map could have helped them but the marauders had lost it in their seventh year and never found it again. 'It's about his wand?'

Tracey now paid utmost attention. Harry had asked her for his wand, apparently thinking she would know about it. It was supposed to be at his bedside and it wasn't. 'What about it, Professor. Did you find it?'

Daphne too was highly curious about it. She actually found it a little amusing that all the trouble the boy went through and finally got a decent wand, that worked somewhat for him, only to lose it in a few days. What an idiot!

She wasn't going to be using anything against him anytime soon. Not that she had changed her mind about him after his display in the common room, but now it was common knowledge that Ollivander had said it was his wands doing, not his own.

No, it was because Tracey was getting increasingly annoyed with her. Although, his behaviour this morning, did strike her a little odd. But maybe Tracey was right, and he was just disturbed this morning because of the school's reaction ever since he had woken up.

'No, Ms. Davis. Harry's wand broke when the troll fell on top of him,' Lily said, somewhat guiltily but as Albus says, it was for the greater good.

Tracey gasped in shock and surprise, pity and sorry for her friend filling her. He had been so happy at his new wand, she could tell. He really did have bad luck. Now, more than ever, she wished she could be there to comfort him but he was nowhere to be found.

Lily did feel guilty about this but it had to be done. That wand was dangerous and they were after all, only looking out for him. 'I was just wondering why he hasn't asked the teachers for his wand. If you do see him before his evening, could you please tell him that I have a wand that will suit him.'

Now, Tracey was even more suspicious. What the hell does that mean? Even Daphne's eyes narrowed at the woman's stupid statement. And that was saying something. 'I'm sorry Professor. But don't wands need to choose their wizards.'

Lily smiled at the inquisitive girl. She was a smart one. 'There isn't only one way to make a wand, Ms. Davis. You see when Ollivander was here last on our request, he tested Harry's magic with a few wood samples and cores, and created a custom wand for him. So, if you see my son before tonight's dinner, please tell him that I have the wand and he is to serve detention with me tomorrow night at seven.'

They nodded and were off, both whispering about what it could all mean, as soon as they out of the Professor's earshot. Lily mentally congratulated herself, for tonight Dumbledore had something special planned.

* * *

They have been known by many names over the centuries. The Italians called them Strega; the Yoruba of West Africa called them Aje; the Vikings called them Hexa; the Romans called them Magus and Malefica and here they call them witches and wizards.

Qetsiyah LeFay was a pureblood daughter of an ancient bloodline, who could quite easily trace her ancestry to the likes of Morgana LeFay, who incidentally, was half-blood. Perhaps that was why all the teachers, save for Andromeda hated her. No, hate was a big word. Dislike was more like it. And perhaps that was why they didn't deign to talk to her. It couldn't be because they liked that whore Sinistra and were having difficulty accepting her.

In her time here, she had never heard a single teacher mention the ex-Astronomy trollop. Maybe they just had something against purebloods. After all, Andromeda and herself were the only pureblood teachers on staff.

At first, she had thought that Severus Snape was one too. He sure acted like a proper pureblood heir, if he wasn't so gloomy and sulky all the time. But there was no mention of an English pureblood family called the Snapes. So, he must be a half-blood.

Contrary to what most others in this school and indeed this country thought, blood matters. Maybe not for trivial things such as magical skill but power, traditions and customs, bloodline abilities which were conserved through keeping a wizarding lineage pure, mattered quite a lot.

And that was why she had been reluctant to do anything remotely concerned with the Potters. It wasn't a secret that out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Potters were the only blood traitors – apart from the Weasleys. Blood Traitors, not because they didn't support that foolish upstart Voldemort, but traitors because James Potter and his progeny chose to abandon their traditions and customs willingly after marrying a muggleborn. Even adopting muggle culture.

It was because of traitors like him and Sirius Black that wizarding culture was at a risk. Not to mention the constant influx of muggleborns and their effects being unchecked. And it was a world wide disease. England was more affected by it compared to other countries like Germany, Austria or even France. But less than United States. That was a disaster no one wanted to speak of.

But then if James Potter hadn't married the muggleborn Lily Evans, who she have her student who sat before her. Thinking about that was a moot point anyway. He was here, he needed her guidance and she needed his help, sometime in the future.

'Stronger than Alexander?' she was shaken out of her musings of possible future plans with this child when he looked up at her with those heterochromia eyes. That was another mystery about this boy that was bothering her.

Neither of his parents, James or Lily Potter have purple eyes, neither did his pureblood grandparents, Charlus Potter and Dorea Black. So, he must have gotten the purple eye from one muggle filth on his mother's side.

She shook her head, 'No, you are not.' She replied to him and watched as his shoulders sagged just a little before he rallied again and raised them, more determined than before. That! That was why she had taken him as her student.

Even though he had rallied, she still felt like she should explain, 'You need to realise something, Harry. Two months ago, for all intents and purposes you were a muggle. For ten years you were raised by muggles.'

Should she talk about more uncomfortable parts of his childhood now? No. It was much too soon. He didn't trust her enough to talk about that yet.

'Meanwhile, your brother had started his basic magical education when he was nearly nine. His father is a transfiguration prodigy. His mother is a Charm's Mistress and likely equally skilled in potions. From what I have gathered,' she didn't say how. 'He is up to his second-year magical theory curriculum and probably already knows the first year's charms. Perhaps even transfiguration.'

That had been discussed in the most recent teachers meeting but Harry didn't need to know how the headmaster was adamant about knowing Alexander's progress and grades.

'So, yes. He is stronger… for now. But that doesn't mean that you can't catch up,' she smiled as his eyes brightened up, his jaw determinedly set. 'In fact, I think it very possible for you. If…,' she stated this point. 'If, you to stop holding back in class.'

'What?!' Harry asked, somewhat afraid that she knew this. How had she figured it out? If she already knows it, then there is no point denying it. 'Why?'

She sighed deeply, having sat down, 'Yes. By not working to the best of your ability, you are only holding yourself back, Harry. Think of it logically.' She knew that logic was more likely to work with him than sentiment.

'For Charms, Transfiguration and Defence, you have double periods, twice a week. That means, on average, six hours reserved for practising magic under the supervision of a teacher. If you waste those, not only would you need to make up those six hours from your own time, but you will most probably end up spending longer, as you will not have your instructors to guide you. Those six hours can be better spent, learning different magic from me, or more advanced theories, or with Andromeda.

Not only that, but if you get in the habit of relaxing during your practical classes, you will subconsciously develop a laid-back attitude towards your education. Yes, I know as a Slytherin it comes naturally to you to want to hide your skills and abilities, but if you are consistently at the bottom of your classes, not only will your peers not respect you, your teachers will not push you either. Who wants to teach someone who doesn't want to learn?'

She supposed she could have threatened him to work better, but that would be saved for later. No need to use all her ammunition now.

Harry narrowed his eyes, not liking the way she laid the truth bare. Yes, he supposed it makes sense. Legendary mages like Voldemort, Grindelwald and even Dumbledore didn't get where they were by not working properly during classes. And he was going to beat them!

She knew she had gotten through to him when she saw the resolve in his mismatched eyes. Time for the last bomb. 'So, as an incentive. Every week you keep improving on your classes, I will teach you a new spell. Starting from today. You have your goal, and you have two…. Make it three hours. At the end, if you succeed, I will teach you how to find an object.'

Harry eyes brightened instantly at the prospect and grinned. Yes, maybe he could use it to find his missing wand! He would do it! He would make these rocks levitate! But….

'Can it be done without a wand, the spell I mean,' he corrected. He had already seen Tessa levitating objects by just using her hand.

She smiled, liking his curiosity. This is what sets him apart from Ms. Granger. That is what makes him better. She thinks in a decidedly muggle way. He was learning not to. Even in the span of a few hours since this morning, he had improved. Maybe not magically per se… but as a person.

But she wasn't going to give him all the answers. That way he wasn't going to learn. 'You've been meditating for almost three hours now. Reaching out with your feelings. Clearing your mind. What have you learnt about the nature of magic?'

Harry's lips pursed, just as they did when he was thinking quite hard about something. For three hours, he had been doing what he did at the start, reaching out with his feelings, senses. He could feel magic, use it, perhaps even manipulate it but it always seemed to strive towards balance. If the snake ate the rabbit, something ate the snake, or another rabbit took its place.

Like it had a mind off its own. His eyes widened, considering the possibility! Could it be? They hadn't been taught anything like that in any of their classes? In fact, it went against everything written in theory books.

'Magic is sentient!'

Tessa grinned widely and laughed. 'Exactly, Harry! Exactly!'

Already he had realised a truth that takes many grown wizards and witches, years to fathom, and even then, most don't believe it, wanting to live on in their own narrowminded view.

'You told me how you felt magic around you, inside you, between us… That's true. Magic is everywhere, in living things at least. The rabbit, the snake, the flowers and the trees. Even muggles, but tiny, tiny amounts of it. It lets us use it – those who have sensitivity to it anyway – and manipulate it, but it always has its own will. That is why rituals, oaths and contracts work. That said, your question was, can the spell be done without a wand? Some spells, can't. Some, yes.

A wand, is a focus. A talisman. To channel power and be able to concentrate it. Why wands work the way they do is very complicated theoretical discussion, but essentially, a wand is both a crutch and an obstacle. Our magic flows from us, into the wands and out. But we do not use the wand's magic. No. Magic is inside us. In body, blood and muscles. In our souls and minds.'

Harry nodded, that made sense. They were magical creatures after all. So, he could use that spell to find his wand, even if he didn't have his wand. He didn't know, but it made him feel more… free, in a way.

And so, as Tessa made to leave him there, for she had class very soon, he continued sitting on the cold, hard floor trying to make the rocks float.

Breathing in and out, this time with his eyes open and fixed onto the heavy rocks around the cave, he willed them to move. After an hour, Harry could only get a few of them to lift maybe an inch off the floor before he had to stop. The strain was killing him. He knew his magic was being used but his muscles felt like they were on fire.

How in the world did Tessa make it look so easy? What was she doing that was different? Oh, how he wished she was here. But she had already told him that she would not hold his hand and tell him everything.

And honestly, he preferred it that way but at least she could have been here to give him some pointers. No. He will not give up! His wand was at stake. If he didn't make them move, his wand was going to stay lost.

Okay. Time to try something else. If he said it to her, he knew what she would have said. She would have shaken her head, and told him, 'No. Either do or do not. There is no try.'

Concentrating on the feeling he got when he reaches out with his feelings, he closed his eyes, raised his hand and pointed towards the rocks. It wasn't long before he could feel his magic, like a swirling blue tide of a river…

Gently, at first, he coaxed it out. Through his chest, into his right arm and then into his hand and then outwards. That's where it got increasingly more difficult… Using his hand as a guide, a magnet, a fishing rod, he let off of the magic, further and further, until he felt the rocks.

Now, in a sense he had the rocks in his hand and straining under the magical exhaustion and aching muscles, he pushed on. He nearly had it there when it collapsed and the magic rushed back into his hand or the surroundings, wasted.

Crap! He swore imaginatively. But he had gotten further than before. He had even been able to touch the rocks with his magic. He knew he could do it. He had done it before subconsciously the first time when he was sitting on the rock outside, so he could do it now.

He just had to focus. This time, he did it again, and when he reached the rocks, and felt them, he remembered what he had been doing wrong. Will and intent! How stupid could he be! He had forgotten the most crucial aspect of magic. It wasn't enough to want a desired result. But he had to will it to make it happen.

And so, he did. He willed, forcing his back to lift up the rocks, which he couldn't see because of his closed eyes. 'AAGHH!' the strain was killing him. His muscles begged to be let go. To have some rest but he ignored them. He was so close. He could feel it. Go on! Lift! Float! Levitate! He shaped his magic into sheet under the rock, then slowly raised it into a bed, like filling it with air.

That's it! He opened his eyes! One inch! Two inches! Three inches! And then they fell.

Harry laughed out loud, cackling like a mad. He had done it. Beat his record by two inches! Next time, he would do it by four. But first, he needed some rest and some food.

* * *

Hours later, a thoroughly sweat soaked, and tired Harry walked into the castle. He had been at it for hours on end, taking periodic breaks in between and then starting all over again. But still failing to lift the rocks more than a few inches of the ground.

But maybe it was because he had such a meagre amount of food for lunch, two sandwiches that Tessa had left for him. Harry had skipped lunch, and the Defence class after it, and even the History of Magic with Andromeda later.

And so, as he ignored the looks of the people, some scared of him and some outright hating him without even knowing him, he trudged tiredly on the way to the Room.

He wouldn't go into the common room until he had a way to defend himself. And judging by the angry looks he had gotten from the Slytherin table before, he still had quite a few enemies in there. It would be just plain stupid to walk in there without a wand.

That said, as he bathed and dressed in his other set of Hogwarts robes, he knew that he couldn't miss dinner. One, Tessa had told him that she would see him before dinner. And two, he had already showed that he was willing to sit there by accepting Grace's offer.

He didn't know if the offer would still be open but it would make him look like a right coward if he bailed. And he refused to look like that anymore.

Besides, he had talked with Grace and her friends quite civilly. And it would be shame to miss out on that alliance because he was too scared to show his face in the Great Hall.

With renewed determination, Harry walked purposefully down towards the History of Magic classroom. If Alexander was on the second-year curriculum purely because who his parents were and they had tutored him from an early age, then he had a lot of catching up to do.

And he would be damned if he let that get in between his education. And he most certainly would if he couldn't even lift a few measly rocks. Alexander would be able to do it, Harry knew. It wouldn't be a problem for him.

Harry, as much as he hated it, was forced to admit that the boy was talented at magic. Not only had he gotten the lumos charm and the levitation charm on the first or second go, he was also able to cast a decent stunning charm and the knockback jinx in Defence and could transfigure a matchstick into a needle without any difficulty.

Harry, on the other, didn't know the first thing about casting a stunning charm, or the knockback jinx, and even if he had gotten the lumos charm now, his transfiguration was still below par. So, in short, he had a lot of catching up to do.

He rounded the corner, when he heard the familiar voices. Harry sighed, and quickly ducked behind an armour, not wanting to run into any of them, especially the know-it-all.

'Alex, that can't be true,' Hermione said in her all-knowing tone, 'Why would he take it from Gringotts?'

What? That was unexpected. Of all the things he expected his idiotic brother and his stupid friends to be talking about, that wasn't it. Take what from Gringotts?

'Hermione, I'm telling you, Hagrid took something from the vault 713 when he went there in July,' his brother answered.

'Well what did it look like?' Weasel asked, a little too curious for Harry's liking. Though he couldn't comment. He was essentially doing the same thing. He had to admit, he was kind of curious.

713 was the vault which had been broken into and reported this morning in the Daily Prophet. Odd, that they would take two months to report a breaking in which happened at the end of July.

'I dunno, but it was small and compact, wrapped in a paper,' Alexander replied, 'OH MY GOD!' he gasped suddenly.

'What? Did you remember something that could help the goblins?' Granger asked, 'If so, Alexander, you should tell Dumbledore. He'll probably know what to do.'

'No, no. It's not that!' Alexander replied, getting more and more excited by the minute. 'After the Halloween feats, when Snape came with McGonagall, his leg was bleeding. I'm betting whatever Hagrid took from Gringotts is hidden under the trap door on the third floor. I'm betting Snape tried to get past the three headed dog and got bitten!'

The other two gasped at the realisation. Hidden from view, Harry rolled his eyes. Leave it to the idiot to think that the teacher he hates most is trying to steal something. He waited until all three had left when he made his appearance from behind the armoured knight.

Why in the world would Dumbledore hide whatever it was in a school? And what was that about the three headed dog? As far as he knew, the only dog with three heads, according to 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' was a Cerberus, used in Greece to guard something precious.

Why in the name of Merlin would the headmaster keep such a dangerous beast in a school full of children. It was obvious that the three had been to the third-floor corridor. So, there was a trap door, presumably under the dog. That would make the most sense.

But that, in no way meant that whatever Hagrid took from the vault was here at Hogwarts. There were too many assumptions being made to come to that conclusion. First, Hagrid took whatever it was on orders of Dumbledore. Second, the vault was either Hagrid's private vault or one belonging to the school or one belonging to the headmaster. The third, that Dumbledore had stored it here. Fourth, it was a trap.

That was the most likely answer to this. Given how Dumbledore had announced the forbidden corridor, practically giving an invitation to anyone who wanted to come and find out. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the thief broke in to the vault, found it empty and fled, the next month, the headmaster seals the corridor, puts a guard dog on it and tells anyone not go to there. It practically screamed, 'Trap!'

Who would be idiotic enough to fall for such an obvious ploy?

Regardless, he pushed it out of his mind as made his way to Andromeda's classroom. Whatever it was, it was none of his business. Granted, he could try and find out whatever is being hidden to use it some advantage of his, but that would take a lot of unnecessary work and investigation.

'Good, you're here,' Andromeda was sitting behind her desk in her usual straight-backed pose that was so similar to her sister's, it was scary. 'You're a little, Harry.'

'Sorry, Professor,' he replied, knowing that she expected punctuality. 'Time flies when you're having fun.'

Andromeda chuckled and nodded, 'Just as well. Please be on time.' Harry nodded and she walked to her blackboard and flicked her wand, showing what was written on it. 'In the first part of this lesson, you will be reflecting.'

Harry frowned in confusion. It was much too late in the day and he was much too tired for such an arduous activity. 'On what?'

'On behaviour. Yours and others. You asked me to tutor you in pureblood culture and etiquette. And this is part of it, even if few others employ reflection in their lives now. You see, Harry, wearing silk robes and clothes will not make you like them,' she looked pointedly at him as if wanting to criticise something, but Harry didn't know what.

'Okay…' Harry replied, not knowing where she was going with this.

Andromeda seemed to pick up on in his confusion and elaborated, 'If you want the proper purebloods to take you seriously, you will need more than just a similar wardrobe. You will need to talk like them, walk like, eat like them, and frankly speaking, you will need to improve upon your manners.'

Harry scowled at the indirect insult. What was wrong with his manners. One thing good with living with aunt petunia was that she had drilled proper manners into him. Unlike her fat son.

But that was not the most concerning part of what she said, 'What's wrong with the way I talk?'

Confusing him further, she smiled, 'Well, Harry. I'm sorry to say this, but you talk like a commoner. Much like Nymphadora, you talk like an uneducated, Londoner, no doubt the influence of your respective muggles relatives.'

He bristled greatly, and clenched his fists but Harry couldn't deny that what she said had some truth in it. He did talk like Uncle Vernon, as much as he hated the man, it seemed that he had picked up something from the walrus. That wouldn't do, not at all.

'But then, why did you never make Tonks speak proper…,' he paused, seeing the look on her face. 'Properly,' she nodded.

'Who says I didn't,' she smirked, 'I did but the influence of her father was strong when she was learning to speak…'

That didn't explain all the years after. But knowing Andromeda as he had gotten to in the two weeks she had been here, she would never let her daughter have such a weakness. She was a Slytherin. He nodded in acceptance. He would ponder over why Tonks was pretending, later.

'Good. Before I teach you how to speak like the aristocracy, like a proper pureblood does, I want you to take a few minutes to think about your acquaintances and tell me who speaks, and I hate to say this word, posh.'

This was much harder than he had thought. Who came across as posher than others particularly by the way they speak? He had no idea. 'Draco Malfoy.' That was obvious.

Andromeda smiled, 'Ah yes. The Malfoys were always a bit too pompous. He is much like his father. And?'

Harry thought about the different purebloods he knew in the four houses and compared them to each other. 'Susan Bones definitely isn't.'

'I agree. Amelia was never one to put much stock into these things,' she replied. 'Think of those raised by purebloods but not act like purebloods.'

Tonks was the obvious answer but he had already figured out that she was faking it. 'Alexander and the Weasleys.'

'Very true. James was raised properly by Charles and Aunt Dorea but he always resented it. And your brother has a lot of your mother in him.'

Muggles influences, went unsaid but he understood it all the same.

'And the Weasleys?' he asked, knowing that they were one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Andromeda sighed, 'Nobody knows why Weasleys are the way they are… Perhaps it's because of Arthur's muggle obsession but I don't really know.'

'Daphne Greengrass,' he concluded his list, the prim and proper girl stood out like a sore thumb even among only girls.

'Exactly… and that ties in with what I was going to talk about later but might as well do it now,' she motioned him to stand. 'Now, I couldn't help but notice the way you treat each other.'

Harry grimaced, really not wanting to talk about her. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought up her name. But Andromeda would have done so if he hadn't. Taking Tessa's advice, he chose to face this problem instead of avoiding it. 'She hates me,' he said, but wasn't unable to stop the wince that followed.

Andromeda nodded, as if she already knew it, 'Now I want you to think why she would have any possible reason to dislike you… hate is a strong word, Harry.'

'Maybe because of the squib thing,' he replied, unable to think of anything else he had done to her.

'Perhaps,' she sighed, 'And perhaps not. You yourself said that she acts and is a proper pureblood. Does that not mean that her resentment could have started when she met you?'

Harry winced at the memory. He was actually quite ashamed of it. Now in hindsight, he had acted terribly. He was fresh to the wizarding world, only having one book on etiquette and he acted with pride that neither befitted him nor was justified. 'I snubbed her.'

She nodded, having already expected it, 'I know. It usually happens with muggleborns who have no idea of our culture or etiquette. So, I want you to think of what you did wrong, and you have done since that may have resulted in her dislike of you.'

And so, the next half hour was spent in Harry and Andromeda discussing his frankly atrocious behaviour when he introduced himself to Tracey and Daphne but then proceeded to snub, all because he was irritated with how she had replied to his apology.

'Now that you know what you did wrong then, let's go on to greetings and titles. First, formal titles. Let's take… my sister for example. Her husband is Lord Malfoy. She is Lady Malfoy. Draco's the only son, so he is Heir Malfoy. If he had a sister, she too would be Lady Malfoy, in the absence of her mother. But that is only on formal occasions and in formal writing. Otherwise, Lucius would be addressed as Mr. Malfoy, Narcissa as Mrs. Malfoy and Draco as Mr. Malfoy.'

Once they were done with the crash course in titles and greetings, she started him on elocution, specifically how to speak upper RP, the vowels and consonants, the movement of the tongue and the jaw. The latter of which was very limited.

That was how an hour later, they were found by Tessa, who strode in with her indigo dress flowing behind her. 'Ah, I see you are teaching him some manners,' the wretched woman smiled her infectious smile at him.

'I wasn't that bad…,' Harry whined but even he had to admit, he kind of was. Andromeda coughed, and looked at him with both eyerbrows raised. He hastily corrected himself, 'I was not that bad.'

Both women nodded, seeing as they had both told him various times before not to use contractions in speech or writing. It makes him look uncultured. 'He is getting there, Tessa.'

'Good,' Tessa walked to the front of Andromeda's desk as her levitated all the papers and books that were cluttering it, away. 'Now, Harry. Come over,' she said, levitating a few candles from a cupboard in the corner and placed them on the table.

He obliged and along with Andromeda, they both watched in fascination as Tessa spread a magical map of England on the table, and put an unlit candle on each of the four corners. Magical maps, unlike their mundane version, were enchanted to zoom in, on a country, city and even a town, depending on how advanced an enchanter the map maker was.

This one, seemed very advanced. Seeing his unasked question, she said, 'I created it,' noting the surprised gasp from Andromeda. Harry didn't know what was so surprising, but clearly it must have taken a lot of effort, and talent. He was practically itching to learn something as advanced as this but considering he didn't even know a stunning charm, doing so at any time soon was highly unlikely.

'How is this going to help?' Andromeda asked, eyeing the map curiously.

'Well. I am going to use this map to find our dear student's lost wand. It is called an object locator spell. I do not have enough time to teach it to you, considering what is happening tonight, so I will do it for you,' she motioned him forward.

'And the candles,' he asked. He was terribly confused. She hadn't even taken out her wand yet.

'They provide a link to ambient magic, as a way to channel it in the spell,' Tessa replied, and with that she took out some iron powder from a bag and spilled it onto the map.

'Give me your hand. If this works, it will lead us to where the wand is being kept,' she added, sitting down on one side of the desk and Harry sat down on the other, with the map in between their joined hands.

As she started chanting in some unknown language, Harry felt the spell take hold, similar to what he had felt during the weird ritual she had done on him earlier.

The magic flowed and concentrated between them, in waves he could feel it flit between him to her and the map. Suddenly the candles lit themselves, first as a slight flicker but then the flicker increased to the point they look like they were glowing embers.

The iron sand was now in motion. Tessa had her eyes closed as she focused on the chanting and maintaining the spell but he and Andromeda, watched flummoxed as the iron sand formed a line. The line then moved from the top of England, Scotland he presumed towards the south.

Down and down it went until it reached London and then paused. The map zoomed itself in and the line continued. Just when it looked like they were getting somewhere, with a bang all the candles exploded, showring both Harry and Tessa with hot wax and the map set on fire.

'Shit!' Harry cursed, startled, jumping away as the fire spread to the table. 'What the hell!'

Tessa's lips pursing into a thin line was the only indication of her being displeased.

'What just happened?' asked Andromeda, as Tessa extinguished the fire on the table with a wave of her hand, as if it had never been there. Curiously the map was still unharmed. How?

Ah, anti-fire enchantment. Clever. So, she must have known this was a possibility.

'It means that wherever Harry's wand is, the location has a sort of unplotabbility charm on it,' she replied, clearly thinking about a way around it.

'Wonderful. So that means I can't find it,' Harry said, now desolate that once again he would be without a proper wand. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to exact his revenge from the one who has stolen and hidden his wand.

He was distracted from his thoughts of vengeance when Tessa smirked, 'I didn't say that.'

'You cannot break an unplottability ward without being near the place!' Andromeda said, clearly shocked that such a feat was possible.

Harry who had no idea about wards just watched the exchange between the two more experienced witches, just hoping that between the two they would be able to come up with something that would enable him to find his precious wand.

'I am not going to break the ward, Andromeda,' Tessa shook her head and summoned her own house-elf and asked her to bring… salt of all things.

'Then what?' she asked, as they watched Tessa draw triangle of salt on the floor.

'Given that the locator spell worked somewhat, it shows that the wand does not have a cloaking spell on it. And as you know, all spells, have a loophole. A weakness. And given that young Harry here has a phoenix, we're going to exploit that weakness,' Tessa smiled, having finished drawing the structure on the ground. 'Now, Harry you stand on one corner, Andromeda you stand on the other.'

The triangle was inside a circle, with each point of it touching the perimeter. Each of them took their positions on one point of the triangle. For the first time ever, Harry saw Tessa withdraw her own wand.

And it left him shocked. Her wand was eerily similar to it, in colour if not the shape. Both were white, wands. The only difference was that her wand's shade was slightly ivory.

Conjuring a bowl which she placed in the middle of the triangle, 'Give me your hand,' Tessa said to him.

With her wand, she made a long slice on Harry's palm and ignoring his wince of pain, she squeezed his hand until the bowl had an inch of his blood in it. 'I will use your blood as a connection to your wand. Blood magic is highly dangerous but very powerful, if done right.'

Andromeda gasped, seeing the blatant use of dark, most probably illegal magic being done in a classroom where anyone could just walk in.

'Don't worry,' Tessa said, seeing Andromeda look anxiously towards the door. 'I warded it when I came in.'

With that, Tessa used a simple levitation charm to float his blood from the bowl onto the three sides of the triangle. At each side, she drew one single rune, none of which Harry had the slightest clue about. 'Now this is the spell,' she showed them the parchment with the spell written on it.

'You must think about your wand, visualise it, how it makes you feel, the power and the feeling of completeness. Your intent and will must be to find it and to have it in your hands. If it works, hopefully we will get a location of the wand.'

With that she placed the map in the middle of the triangle and spilled a little of his blood from the bowl onto it.

'Grab by hand,' both of them obliged, with Harry grasping her left hand with which she held her wand. 'On the count of three, start chanting and channelling your magic.'

Harry nodded, feeling extremely anxious. None of this was remotely like anything he had even heard about.

'One, two, three… Vitto Brosche Anta Cortis Syrum… Vitto Broshe Anta Cortis Syrum….'

Over and over, all three of them chanted the spell, with Harry envisioning the white bark of his wand, the feeling of power, the need to have it, the feeling of completeness and with every ounce of his will, he needed to find it.

The pull on his magic was nothing like he had ever felt in his life. It felt like he was being drained of his life force. He was burning up from the inside, like his very skin was on fire. He could feel his blood getting hot, his head ached with a migraine like it was going to burst open with a immense pressure building up inside.

Harry didn't see it as he had his eyes, but the chairs and tables in the room floated until they were a few feet in the air. And still, they chanted.

Suddenly, the pull on his magic disappeared, and with a crash every chair and every table which was floating, landed on the floor.

Andromeda gasped, looking at the map on the floor. The blood making the runes had disappeared, as if into thin air. And so, had the blood in the bowl, leaving it empty.

Harry grinned, finally he knew where his wand was. The few drops of blood on the map were centred around one location: 12 Grimmauld Place, London.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was over a century old, and in better shape than most wizards were at eighty, if he did say so himself. Part of that was because of his Myrridian Index, which was at the level of a Grand Sorcerer. He normally scoffed at such trivial and childish methods of measuring one's power but it did work for the masses.

He had fought two wizarding wars, albeit he spent the first one trying keeping the fighting from coming to England's shores. As such, the English don't count Grindelwald's war as one. The English Civil War, the first wizarding war of this century was fought against Lord Voldemort, his followers called Death Eaters and many of the traditional, conservatory pureblood families.

His father too was from a pureblood family but he was far from traditional. He had married the muggleborn Kendra after all. Dumbledore only counted himself, Grindelwald and Voldemort as being Sorcerers even though the general populace had a list that included more names on it. But none that could come to their level, if he was being honest.

And all hope seemed lost, near the end of the 1970s and it looked like Voldemort and his forces – of which there were a large number of vampires, werewolves, dementors and inferi – were going to win. His pleas and sermons for the pureblood families to not support the madman were falling on deaf ears especially since he promised the return of the old ways, and a limit or ban of entry of muggleborns into their world. He had spent much of his life fighting for equality for muggleborns.

And then, a hope rose in all that darkness. As is always the case. Even if he didn't propagate such a belief, for fear of what it might, magic always sought to level things out. Light with darkness, life with death, freedom with slavery and the powerful with the weak.

And with that hope, Voldemort was vanquished as foretold. The killing curse, fired on a one year old that the monster had sought to destroy, destroyed Voldemort's body. But Dumbledore had sufficient evidence, as Voldemort himself had bragged, that a trivial thing as bodily destruction would not kill him.

And so, the wizarding Britain has enjoyed a decade of peace since then. But he will return someday. He is sure of that. When would that be, exactly, he isn't certain? And so, Alexander, who did the impossible, somehow absorbing his brother's magical core in the process needed to be kept safe, until he could be trained.

His brother, the then thought to be squib, was understandably to be kept out of their world, but not by his design. But that of his parents. Albus wasn't worried even when the child turned at Hogwarts as a seemingly full-fledged member of their society. Even though James and Lily were baffled, he wasn't. The case wasn't unheard of. Magical cores were known to replenish themselves in time and so it happened with young Hadrian.

It was a concern when the boy was sorted in Slytherin. For his demeanour and his attitude showed that he greatly resented his parents and his brother. And so, of course, a determination to prove himself was almost a given in his personality. And that was exactly why he needed to be taken out of Slytherin.

But Albus couldn't just do that without avoiding the wrath of the board or the media backlash. There was no precedence for it. The boy, who might have become a challenge to his brother, needed to be in Gryffindor. That particular concern of his, abated when Poppy informed James and Lily, who in turn informed him, that Harry's index was a measly thirty-five.

But now, the concern had become a worry. Not only had the young child proved Poppy wrong, somehow, in the most unlikely turn of events, by killing a troll, he was capable of casting a reductor curse. Either by accident or consciously, it mattered not. The fact was that the boy had cast a fourth-year spell in his first year.

His worries didn't end there. The boy, for some inexplicable, unexplainable reason, had been by chosen by a phoenix. A dark phoenix. But he wasn't worried because of the colour of the bird. No, Fawkes wasn't concerned so neither was he. Unlike James and Lily, he didn't think that the colour black made it evil. That was childish and frankly completely ignorant of them. And he told them so. But the fact remained that the boy had garnered the attention and loyalty of a phoenix.

When the Boy-Who-Lived hadn't. That was their main concern and worry.

Why? What did Hadrian have that Alexander didn't? But at least, one, preferably two, of their problems would be solved today. While he didn't approve of James and Lily – Jily as Minerva called them together – hiding the boy's wand, it had become a necessity.

Not because he was overly worried of the wand's power, but because it will give them a chance to bond with Harry when the boy was appointed his mother as a mentor. And he would be happy and grateful to them for it, since no one had thought to take him on.

Curiously, not even Andromeda did. And here he thought, that since young Hadrian had almost singlehandedly hired her, she would be grateful to him. But then, perhaps she had already paid that off in some other way.

He would have to keep an eye on her. And Professor LeFay. The two women becoming friends, was almost a given. Both were slighted by someone or other. While he had no hand in hiring the former, he had hired the latter purely because there was no other alternative. And she, having a Mastery in Astronomy that not even Sinistra had, was quite accomplished in other areas as well.

And given her family history and enmity with Voldemort, she would be a valuable ally when the time came. But for that, he would need Jily and their friends, preferably the Weasleys as well, to socialise with the Grecian woman.

Perhaps, he would get the Potters to extend her an invitation for Christmas like they did with the Weasleys and the Longbottoms. Perhaps, they should also invite Andromeda and her daughter as well. It really would be in the young girl's best interest seeing as she wanted to be an Auror and both James and Sirius, her relatives, were senior Aurors.

But now, it was time for their plans to commence.

* * *

As Harry walked in, or rather, trudged in to the Great Hall, he was immediately, faced with a weird seating plan, one which he promptly ignored, after noting it, as he made his way to the front of the Slytherin, as Tessa had asked him to.

He didn't know why she would make such an odd request, but seeing as she had yet to steer him wrong, he had obliged. And now, he understood why. Every single, younger person, was sitting next to an older student.

He may not be Hermione Granger, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that they were mentors sitting with their mentees. One look showed him that said know-it-all, sitting at the front the Gryffindor table as well. Along with Alexander, and Weasel next to his prefect brother.

Draco and his gang, were just walking away from the recently formed trio, after their daily ritual of exchanging insulting jibes, Harry guessed. The two really were very similar. Even in the way they strutted the corridors as if they owned them.

Of the only differences, apart from houses obviously, was the way they talked. While Draco drawled, much like Snape, in the most arrogant way possible, Alexander talked like a London commoner. And Harry didn't know which he preferred.

'Hey, Harry,' he looked right to see Tracey patting the empty seat next to her, her black orbs shining. She was sitting next to an older boy who Harry vaguely remembered as Cassius Warrington.

But he wasn't in the mood to entertain her lies. Aware of minding his manners, as he was recently told to by Andromeda, he merely replied, 'No, thank you. Ms. Davis. I would rather sit at the front.'

Daphne had a smug smile on her face sitting next to Grace Weitt but it promptly when vanished when Harry addressed them both. 'Grace. Ms. Greengrass.'

'Don't you have a mentor, Harry,' Grace asked, looking at him in an almost… concerned manner. That was new.

So was Tracey, to be honest. Especially since she elbowed Cassius when the boy muttered, 'Who would take him,' under his breath but was clearly heard by present company.

He replied in the most nonchalant way he could manage, 'No I do not… yet.'

'Who are you hoping to be appointed to, Harry?' Tracey asked, giving a slight emphasis on his name. Subtle, real subtle.

'I'm hoping for a Professor, Ms. Davis,' Harry ignored her subtle hint about using her first name. 'Did she reply, Grace?' he turned to the older girl who was watching with great amusement his exchange with two girls.

Tracey looked a little hurt, while Daphne smug smile was replaced her usual icy look. He assumed it was because she wasn't sitting next to Draco.

'Yes, she did Harry. I'm curious, how did you know it was going to work?' the older girl asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Harry smirked, 'That is for me to know, and you to investigate, is it not. Now if you would excuse me, I have an appointment with an empty seat at the front.'

'What an arrogant arse,' Daphne muttered when he had left, eyeing his back.

'If I didn't know any better, Daphne, I'd say you were into him,' her mentor smirked as Daphne sputtered in a most undignified manner.

Tracey however looked at her friend's back, and wondered what had happened to them. Why was he being so cold towards her. Well, not cold per se, but treating her like he would any old Hufflepuff. And that hurt her.

Then that hurt turned to anger. What had she done to merit such behaviour? An idiot Gryffindor wouldn't find anything wrong with it, but they were the house of the subtlety. The downgrade from being Tracey to Ms. Davis after they had become friends was almost insulting.

What had gone wrong? Was he mad because she wouldn't tell him who spread the squib rumour? She didn't think he would take it that seriously, especially since it was blatantly wrong. But apparently, he had. She would have to explain herself. Without mentioning the person's name.

Harry was aware of the looks he was getting from the other students, especially since he was welcomed at the Slytherin. Not only that but a few older Slytherins had asked even deigned to talk to him.

As he took his seat at the front, and dug into dinner which had just appeared, he kept an ear out on the chatting Hufflepuffs behind him. Nymphadora had introduced him to her mentee, a third-year boy named Cedric Diggory.

He had skipped the entire day and this was the first time he was hearing the abound rumours of his acceptance into Slytherin house. By the mutterings behind him, the general populace, ever interested in new gossip, thought it was because the Slytherins had finally realised that Harry was just as dark as them, or going dark.

He would have thought that Granger would be grateful to him for saving her life, but according the frown she levelled at him, apparently not. Of all the people he knew in the school, which admittedly was nowhere near as Alexander, Granger confused him.

She was enigma, pure and simple. First, she sort of befriends him on the train. Then, probably because of being a Slytherin, or him being a competition to her, at least theoretically, in classes, she kept frowning at him.

Then she lets him sit opposite her in the library when it had now become common knowledge that Slytherins make her life difficult, particularly Pansy and co. So why let him sit on her table? Then he saves her life, and instead of thanking him personally, she levels a frown at him. He wouldn't have been confused about that, but she had thanked him by writing a card. So why the frown?

She was enigma, pure and simple. And he would figure her out. Everyone needed a hobby. He couldn't spend all his time studying, like her, or he would go insane. He hadn't turned to watch her since he had sat down, but apparently, like him she didn't have a mentor either.

And she had looked a but put off by that. He actually felt pity for the girl. He couldn't imagine being a know-it-all, wide-eyed at the wonders of the magical world, in a house who didn't give a shit about it.

Her becoming friends with Alexander and Weasel was almost a given. One doesn't go through something like surviving a mountain troll and not become friends. Granted, he hadn't, but then he had never been normal. Even now, he was a freak amongst freaks.

By the time he had finished his dessert, he had decided to talk to Granger in the library. It was his duty to warn her against her choice in friends. If she wanted to respected by others, being friends with her bully, the Weasel wasn't the best way to go about it.

* * *

The part-time Professor of Charms sat in her seat beside Pamona Sprout. She had meant to sit beside Severus, her old friend, turned enemy, turned friend but that seat, and the one next to it were already taken by Qetsiyah and Andromeda, the only pureblood staff members.

Lily had no love for conservatives, seeing as they view people like her, witches and wizards born from muggles, as lesser citizens. She had spent much of her life fighting and propagating muggleborn and pureblood equality, much like Dumbledore. He was her hero.

But Andromeda wasn't a conservative. She came from a traditional family much like James, and had married a muggleborn against the wishes of her family, again like her husband. She was Sirius' favourite cousin. He too was far from conservative but was more traditional.

And so, including Andromeda in their social circle seemed like a given. She would talk to James about it soon. Neither her nor her daughter seemed like conservatives, which was a good thing and Nymphadora was the only acquaintance of Harry's, other than Daphne Greengrass, that she approved of.

Qetsiyah though, much like Andromeda, came from a highly traditional and conservative family. Granted, her family was a known enemy of You-Know-Who's and his death eaters, but it didn't mean that she would fit well with them. Which made her friendship the disowned Black woman even more confusing to Lily.

She had heard the rumours about Qetsiyah's family and was researching it on her own. It just seemed to… disgusting to her that they would go so far to preserve the purity of their bloodline. There was such a too far but it seemed that Grecian purebloods didn't care about it. That was the only reason that she hadn't given Dumbledore's suggestion about including Qetsiyah's in their group much thought.

Truth be told, she missed her friendship with Alice and Marlene. It had broken her heart when her best friend and Alex's godmother, was tortured into insanity by that horrid, murderous bitch Bellatrix Lestrange. She had sworn she would take revenge someday.

Marlene McKinnon, her other best friend too was taken from her while the Potters were in hiding, during her pregnancy and later after she had birthed Alexander and Hadrian. She had been murdered by death eaters and her entire family wiped out. Much like Qetsiyah's, she heard from Dumbledore. She couldn't imagine what that felt like.

But she was too traditional and Lily didn't know her views of muggles and muggleborns. And until she did, she would not extend an invitation of friendship. She had two, now three, impressionable children to consider after all.

She hated it that her own son, her own blood, had a disdain for muggles and by extension muggleborns, much like the rest of his elitist house. They had to get him out of there. Even two months into the wizarding world, he knew nothing and was completely malleable.

And it was essential that they mould him properly, into a light wizard who would assist his brother in carrying his extremely difficult burden of being the boy-who-lived, rather than become a burden himself.

And for that to happen, as much as she disliked, they needed to first, get him out of Slytherin and into Gryffindor. She didn't agree with her husband that all Slytherins were dark and evil, but she did agree that most were. And seven years in such a house, would definitely affect her son in a negative way.

Secondly, they needed to integrate him into their family and then their social circles. Amongst their friends, the Potters counted the Weasleys, Neville Longbottom, Amelia and Susan Bones, the Abbots and other light sided families. It was essential that Harry form bonds with the right sort of people, with the right families.

After the troll debacle, she had hoped that Harry would become friends with Alexander and Ron just like Hermione had. Of course, it had taken her telling off Alexander for bullying or assisting in the bullying of the shy muggleborn girl, even through his silence, to get that to happen. Molly had also sent a strongly worded howler to her youngest son at breakfast the next morning.

But the children had built the bridge themselves, when they walked together to breakfast the morning after. Alexander and Ron had apologised to Hermione and the girl had quickly forgiven them both resulting in the friendship that she was now seeing.

Four days after the troll incident, they were known as the golden trio. Her only hope now was that Harry would be included in their group after he shifted to Gryffindor. Severus had come through on her and the headmaster's request and no one had taken Harry on as their mentee. She admitted it was slightly manipulative, but it needed to be done.

He would grateful to her when he was appointed to her and they could start mending their relationship. A gift wouldn't go amiss either, she thought, as she padded the thin, brown box at her side. Any minute now, dinner would end and Harry would soon be on his way to coming back to his family.

Like clockwork, Minerva tapped her glass with a spoon, resulting in the silencing of the Great Hall. It was eerie, impressive and slightly creepy of the Albus even standing up, caused this effect.

* * *

Little did Lily know Harry was having the exact same thought and not for the first time. He wanted this. This kind of respect and awe that greeted the headmaster from nearly three quarters of the school. Even the Slytherins who thought he was a barmy old coot respected him for his power. It was said that Dumbledore was the only one who Voldemort was afraid of.

And Harry's research into the events of the first wizarding war, had shown that there was some truth to it. There were four battles, or rather skirmishes, which Voldemort had taken part in. In three of those, he fought against his own parents and against Frank and Alice Longbottom.

But in all four of them, Voldemort had fled as soon as Dumbledore had arrived had started their duel against each other. That in itself, showed the immense power of the barmy old coot. Even if Harry didn't like the man.

Frankly, he had to admit, that he didn't know why he didn't like Dumbledore. It was just a feeling he got. Well, that and his pro-muggle views. And his fighting against Grindelwald.

Harry had done a lot of research into the first dark lord of the century, particularly for the essays that Andromeda set for her class, and he found that he agreed more with Grindelwald than Voldemort. At least, as far as ideologies went.

'May I have your attention please,' Dumbledore said, knowing full well that he didn't need to, as Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the old coot's unnecessary self-flattery. It seemed all Gryffindors were prone to such a weakness.

'As I understand it, today marks the second Monday of November and as such, the deadline of choosing your mentors and mentees as was decided earlier in the year. According to the rules of the mentor scheme, if you don't have a mentor or a mentee, you will be appointed.

Even though this is the first time that such a scheme has been implemented, we hope to see significant improvement in students' performances and positive feedback. And we hope that this stay and becomes a tradition for years to come. As are the rules, the mentorship would be finalised by the giving and receiving of a gift, from the mentor to the mentee, to solidify their partnership. You may do so now.'

There was an excited shuffle from students and even exclamations of surprise, gratitude and thanks and older students have their younger mentees gifts. Harry, keeping his face as neutral as he could, watched as some received large presents, some small, some looking books and others decidedly not.

What was odd was that, like him, neither Draco nor Alexander or Granger received one. His lack of mentor, he understood. But the other three made no sense. Longbottom's lack of mentor was a given, much like him. Now that he thought about it, there were others, sitting at the front at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables that didn't receive gifts either.

Some older students were giving decidedly mediocre presents to their mentees, like quills or ink pots or rolls of parchment, or even textbooks. So these must be the ones who were appointed to each other, last minute.

But what of the others. He knew something was afoot. It all smelled fishy to him. Dumbledore, and the Potters would never stand by and let Alexander Potter, the golden Saviour boy, go without a mentor. Even Weasel had one. What was going on?

When the exchanging ended, Dumbledore continued, 'Yes, yes well done, well done. It is our hope that your partnerships last the years that both or either of you are at school. However, you will have noticed that some of you, haven't been appointed your mentors.'

Harry noticed with a start, that was true. How had he missed it? All the students sitting at the front were younger students, like him. He needed to be more observant, he chided himself.

Granger looked especially torn up about it.

'Even though the Hogwarts' contract for staff members prohibits the taking on of apprentices, never let it be said that this premier school of magic in Europe does not recognise talent when it sees it. As such, those staff members who wished to take on their own mentees have chosen thus.'

That announcement elicited excited gasps from the crowd as all those sitting at the front straightened up, and paid even more attention, including Harry. So that was it! Why had neither Andromeda nor Tessa told him of it!

Making him panic for no reason. He could see Andromeda smirking at him from the staff table. He would prank them for revenge, he decided.

With a motion of Dumbledore's hand, staff members who had chosen their mentees came to the front and called the names. The students then rose, walked up to the teacher and received the gift finalising their mentorship.

It was a splendid idea, Harry admitted. This way, everyone would know who the most talented young students in certain subjects were.

Bathesda Babbling, Septima Vector, and Charity Burbage all chose third years who Harry had no clue about. Even Madam Pomfrey chose two third year students, and Harry realised the scheme didn't mean that one mentor could only have mentee. Of course, there would be overlaps.

Just like Grace Weitt was a mentor for Daphne, she in turn was a mentee for a seventh-year girl. Granger's face, he noticed was becoming more and more worried as teachers called for their students and her name wasn't one of them.

Professor Sprout walked up, and called for Neville Longbottom, who looked dumbfounded and had gone very red extremely quickly, and sat on his seat, as if frozen in shock. Granger hissed something in his ear, and Alexander gave him a little push to get him to move.

Longbottom waddled his way to the Hufflepuff head and received a rather large disgusting, potted swollen cactus, that looked like it was about to burst. Longbottom, thanking her profusely, almost looked like he was going to burst into tears.

Harry clapped politely with the rest of the school, most of whom were visibly disgusted by the risky, squidgy plant.

Next it was Professor Flitwick's turn. The diminutive Professor squeaked, 'Hermione Granger'

Granger in her excitement with a beaming smile on her face, that Harry had to admit, looked quite cute, almost ran over to half-goblin. She looked for all the world, almost holding herself back from hugging him.

'Congratulations, Ms. Granger,' he said, presenting her with a book.

If possible, her face lit up even more as she hugged the book to her chest, 'Thank you ever so much, Professor. I won't disappoint you I promise!'

And with that, she skipped merrily to her seat, excitedly showing Alexander the book, she was just given. Harry noted, with some amusement that Weasel looked almost envious of her. Or maybe, it was book. Odd, he wasn't one to take up reading.

Next Professor McGonagall walked up briskly and before she even opened her mouth, Harry knew who she had picked. As did the rest of the school. Was there ever any doubt.

Alexander strutted to the front, much like he had during the sorting, and received a leather-bound journal with a smug smirk. And it was in that moment, that Harry understood what all this was about. This scheme, was a cover up. Just another example of the favouritism shown by the Professors to Alexander. They needed a way around the contract to give Alexander extra training and not have it questioned by the public. Et Voila. The mentor scheme was born.

He was sure, by the grumbling he heard amongst the Slytherins, that he wasn't the only one to realise this fact. Dumbledore was a sneaky old coot. Clever and sneaky.

As Professor McGonagall took her seat, he could see Snape and Qetsiyah whispering before the greasy haired git rose from his place. He could tell that she wasn't pleased but didn't want to create a scene here.

Harry had no danger that Snape would pick him. The man seemed to hate him almost as much as he loathed Alexander, for some inexplicable reason. Draco, however, was grinning like a loon. And like Professor McGonagall, everyone knew who Snape was going to choose before he even said it.

Scarily similar to Alexander's strut, Draco went over to the greasy Professor and received his pure silver, size three cauldron, with an incentive of a gold cauldron should he prove himself. He watched with amusement, as Granger eyed the heavy cauldron and Draco's strut with thinly veiled envy.

After Quirrell chose Ernie McMillan, who didn't at all look pleased by this, Harry was the only one left from the students who weren't given a mentor. He was well aware that the staff were keenly watching him, especially the headmaster, and he deftly avoided the old man's eyes, keeping his face as neutral as he could get it.

He watched as Qetsiyah was about to stand up but Lily Potter shot her a glare and hurried, almost ran to the front, beating the woman.

What! No! This couldn't be happening! They can't do this to him! Harry cursed his luck internally. Even if he had to spit on this scheme and alienate himself from every other teacher's good graces, he will not agree to this farce.

Enough was enough. It was clear that Tessa felt the same way when Lily announced his name.

Abandoning all pretence of civility, Harry glared at the woman and then at the headmaster. So, this was their game! Force him to interact with her if he would not do it voluntarily. When he failed to move, in his stubbornness, several Slytherins hissed harshly at him to move his arse.

Relenting, and desperately trying to come up with a reason to deny this farce, he walked up and stood opposite her. The gall of the woman to smile at him, especially with the stunt she had just pulled! One look at the Gryffindor table, told him that Alexander was also privy to this plot. He was grinning like a fool.

'Harry,' she started but hesitated seeing the look on his face.

No, he wouldn't conform to their expectations. Not anymore. No matter how good this woman was with charms or potions, he didn't want her as mentor.

But then he realised, belatedly, he was a Slytherin. He had to be subtle. He couldn't show it that he wanted favouritism otherwise they would lug him in the same category as Draco and Alexander. His first option, accept and try to make it work. Second, accept and still ask Tessa for training. Third, deny and deny.

Tessa looked almost disappointed that he had just walked up. Merlin, he hoped this wasn't her final straw. It wasn't his fault, dammit!

Well aware that everyone in the Great Hall had their eyes trained on him and he couldn't just throw a hissy fit like Alexander had, after his sorting, Harry resigned himself to persevering through this grave injustice as she withdrew a sleek, brown box, and opened it to show a rather simple dark brown wand.

* * *

**Question to the reviewers: When people say, 'Make Harry stronger', what do they actually mean? I mean, he's a first year student, who had no idea what magic was two months ago. Yes, he's going to improve as he learns to control his magic. How do i, somewhat realistically, make him stronger? He's not going to be casting unforgiveables any time soon. I would think a reductor curse, a fourth year spell was strong enough, for now. **


End file.
